B   3    321    32M 


MHRiON 


mw 


For 


ZOROASTER 

AND 

MARZIO'S   CRUCIFIX 


•j^^y^' 


ZOROASTER 


AND 


MARZIO'S     CRUCIFIX 


BY 
F.    MARION    CRAWFORD 

AUTHOR  OF  "MR.  ISAACS,"  "DR.  CLAUDIUS,"  "A  ROMAN 
SINGER,"  ETC. 


THE   MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

LONDON:  MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  Ltd. 

1908 

All  rights  reserved 


COPYBIGHT.   IS-So.   15S7, 
By  F.    MAEION   CEAWFORD. 


Heretofore  published  separately.     New  edition,  in  one  volume,  March,  i^. 


J.  6.  Cushing  Co. —  Berwick  i  Smith  Ck). 
Norwood.  Mass..  U.5.A. 


TO 

fHg  Briobrn  mUt 

I    DEDICATE    THIS    DRAMA 


ZOROASTER. 


CHAPTER  I. 

The  hall  of  the  banquets  was  made  ready  for  the 
feast  in  the  palace  of  Babylon.  That  night  Belshaz- 
zar  the  king  would  drink  wine  with  a  thousand  of 
his  lords,  and  be  merry  before  them ;  and  everything 
was  made  ready. 

From  end  to  end  of  the  mighty  nave,  the  tables  of 
wood,  overlaid  with  gold  and  silver,  stood  spread  with 
those  things  which  the  heart  of  man  can  desire ;  with 
cups  of  gold  and  of  glass  and  of  jade ;  with  great 
dishes  heaped  high  with  rare  fruits  and  rarer  flowers ; 
and  over  all,  the  last  purple  rays  of  the  great  southern 
sun  came  floating  through  the  open  colonnades  of  the 
porch,  glancing  on  the  polished  marbles,  tingeing  with 
a  softer  hue  the  smooth  red  plaster  of  the  walls,  and 
lingering  lovingly  on  the  golden  features  and  the  red- 
gold  draperies  of  the  vast  statue  that  sat  on  high  and 
overlooked  the  scene. 

On  his  head  the  head-dress  of  thrice  royal  suprem- 
acy, in  his  right  hand  and  his  left  the  sceptre  of 
power  and  the  winged  wheel  of  immortality  and  life, 
beneath  his  feet  the  bowed  necks  of  prostrate  cap- 
tives ;  —  so  sat  the  kingly  presence  of  great  Nebu- 


'A  ZOROASTER. 

chadnozza}-,  as  waiting  to  see  what  should  come  to 
pass  upon  his  son ;  and  the  perfume  of  the  flowers 
and  the  fruits  and  the  rich  wine  came  up  to  his 
mighty  nostrils,  and  he  seemed  to  smile  there  in  the 
evening  sunlight,  half  in  satisfaction,  half  in  scorn. 

On  each  side  of  the  great  building,  in  the  aisles 
and  wings,  among  the  polished  pillars  of  marble 
thronged  the  serving-men,  bearing  ever  fresh  spices 
and  flowers  and  fruits,  wherewith  to  deck  the  feast, 
whispering  together  in  a  dozen  Indian,  Persian  and 
Egyptian  dialects,  or  in  the  rich  speech  of  those 
nobler  captives  whose  pale  faces  and  eagle  eyes  stood 
forth  everywhere  in  strong  contrast  with  the  coarser 
features  and  duskier  skins  of  their  fellows  in  servi- 
tude, —  the  race  not  born  to  dominate,  but  born  to 
endure  even  to  the  end.  These  all  mingled  together 
in  the  strange  and  broken  reflections  of  the  evening 
light,  and  here  and  there  the  purple  dye  of  the  sun 
tinged  the  white  tunic  of  some  poor  slave  to  as  fair  a 
colour  as  a  king's  son  might  wear. 

On  this  side  and  on  that  of  the  tables  that  were 
spread  for  the  feast,  stood  great  candlesticks,  as  tall 
as  the  height  of  two  men,  tapering  from  the  thLckness 
and  heavy  carving  below  to  the  fineness  and  delicate 
tracery  above,  and  bearing  upon  them  cups  of  bronze, 
each  having  its  wick  steeped  in  fine  oil  mixed  with 
wax.  Moreover,  in  the  midst  of  the  hall,  where  the 
seat  of  the  king  was  put  upon  a  raised  floor,  the  pil- 
lars stood  apart  for  a  space,  so  that  there  was  a 
chamber,  as  it  were,  from  the  wall  on  the  right  to 
the  wall  on  the  left,  roofed  with  great  carved  rafters ; 
and  the  colour  of  the  walls  was  red,  —  a  deep  and 


ZOROASTER.  3 

glorious  red  that  seemed  to  make  of  the  smooth 
plaster  a  sheet  of  precious  marble.  Beyond,  beneath 
the  pillars,  the  panels  of  the  aisles  were  pictured  and 
made  many-coloured  with  the  story  of  Nebuchadnez- 
zar the  king,  his  conquests  and  his  feasts,  his  captives 
and  his  courtiers,  in  endless  train  upon  the  splendid 
wall.  But  where  the  king  should  sit  in  the  midst  of 
the  hall  there  were  neither  pillars  nor  paintings  ;  only 
the  broad  blaze  of  the  royal  colour,  rich  and  even. 
Beside  the  table  also  stood  a  great  lamp,  taller  and 
more  cunningly  wrought  than  the  rest,  —  the  foot  of 
rare  marble  and  chiselled  bronze  and  the  lamp  above 
of  pure  gold  from  southern  Ophir.  But  it  was  not 
yet  kindled,  for  the  sun  was  not  set  and  the  hour  for 
the  feast  was  not  fully  come. 

At  ^he  upper  end  of  the  hall,  before  the  gigantic 
statue  of  wrought  gold,  there  was  an  open  space,  un- 
encumbered by  tables,  where  the  smooth,  polished 
marble  floor  came  to  view  in  all  its  rich  design  and 
colour.  Two  persons,  entering  the  hall  with  slow 
steps,  came  to  this  place  and  stood  together,  looking 
up  at  the  face  of  the  golden  king. 

Between  the  two  there  was  the  gulf  of  a  lifetime. 
The  one  was  already  beyond  the  common  limit  of 
age,  while  he  who  stood  beside  him  was  but  a  fair 
boy  of  fourteen  summers. 

The  old  man  was  erect  still,  and  his  snowy  hair 
and  beard  grew  like  a  lion's  mane  about  his  massive 
brow  and  masterful  face.  The  deep  lines  of  thought, 
graven  deeper  by  age,  followed  the  noble  shaping  of 
his  brows  in  even  course,  and  his  dark  eyes  still  shot 
fire,  as  piercing  the  bleared  thickness  of  time  to  gaze 


4  ZOROASTER. 

boldly  on  the  eternity  beyond.  His  left  hand  gath- 
ered the  folds  of  a  snow-white  robe  around  him,  while 
in  his  right  he  grasped  a  straight  staff  of  ebony  and 
ivory,  of  fine  workmanship,  marvellously  polished, 
whereon  were  wrought  strange  sayings  in  the  Israel- 
itish  manner  of  writing.  The  old  man  stood  up  to 
his  noble  height,  and  looked  from  the  burnished  face 
of  the  king's  image  to  the  eyes  of  the  boy  beside  him, 
in  silence,  as  though  urging  his  young  companion  to 
speak  for  him  the  thoughts  that  filled  the  hearts  of 
both. 

The  youth  spoke  not,  nor  gave  any  sign,  but  stood 
with  folded  hands  and  gazed  up  to  the  great  features 
of  Nebuchadnezzar. 

He  was  but  fourteen  years  of  age,  tall  and  delicately 
made,  full  of  the  promise  of  a  graceful  and  elastic 
power,  fine  of  skin,  and  instinct  with  the  nervous 
strength  of  a  noble  and  untainted  race.  His  face 
was  fair  and  white,  tinged  with  faint  colour,  and 
his  heavy  golden  hair  fell  in  long  curls  upon  his 
shoulders,  thick  and  soft  with  the  silken  fineness  of 
early  youth.  His  delicate  features  were  straight  and 
noble,  northern  rather  than  Oriental  in  their  type  — 
supremely  calm  and  thoughtful,  almost  god-like  in 
their  young  restfulness.  The  deep  blue  eyes  were 
turned  upward  with  a  touch  of  sadness,  but  the  broad 
forehead  was  as  marble,  and  the  straight  marking  of 
the  brows  bounded  it  and  divided  it  from  the  face. 
He  wore  the  straight  white  tunic,  edged  about  with 
fine  embroideries  of  gold  and  gathered  at  the  waist 
with  a  rich  belt,  while  his  legs  were  covered  mth 
wide  Persian  trousers  wrought  in  many  colours  of 


ZOEOASTEE.  5 

silk  upon  fine  linen.  He  wore  also  a  small  cap  of 
linen,  stiffened  to  a  point  and  worked  with  a  cun- 
ning design  in  gold  and  silver.  But  the  old  man's 
head  was  covered  only  by  the  thick  masses  of  his 
snowy  hair,  and  his  wide  white  mantle  hid  the  details 
of  his  dress  from  view. 

Again  he  glanced  from  the  statue  to  his  compan- 
ion's eyes,  and  at  last  he  spoke,  in  a  deep  smooth 
voice,  in  the  Hebrew  tongue. 

"Nebuchadnezzar  the  king  is  gathered  to  his 
fathers,  and  his  son  also,  and  Nabonnedon  Belshazzar 
reigns  in  his  stead,  yet  have  I  endured  to  this  day, 
in  Babylon,  these  threescore  and  seven  years,  since 
Nebuchadnezzar  the  king  destroyed  our  place  upon 
the  earth  and  led  us  away  captive.  Unto  this  day, 
Zoroaster,  have  I  endured,  and  yet  a  little  longer 
shall  I  stand  and  bear  witness  for  Israel." 

The  old  man's  eyes  flashed,  and  his  strong  aquiline 
features  assumed  an  expression  of  intense  vitality 
and  life.  Zoroaster  turned  to  him  and  spoke  softly, 
almost  sadly : 

"Say,  O  Daniel,  prophet  and  priest  of  the  Lord^ 
why  does  the  golden  image  seem  to  smile  to-day? 
Are  the  times  accomplished  of  thy  vision  which  thou 
sawest  in  Shushan,  in  the  palace,  and  is  the  dead  king 
glad  ?  I  think  his  face  was  never  so  gentle  before  to 
look  upon,  —  surely  he  rejoices  at  the  feast,  and  the 
countenance  of  his  image  is  gladdened." 

"  Nay,  rather  then  should  his  face  be  sorrowful  for 
the  destruction  of  his  seed  and  of  his  kingdom," 
answered  the  prophet  somewhat  scornfully.  "  Verily 
the  end  is  at  hand,  and  the  stones  of  Babylon  shall 


6  ZOROASTER. 

no  longer  cry  out  for  the  burden  of  the  sins  of  Bel- 
shazzar,  and  the  people  call  upon  Bel  to  restore  unto 
life  the  King  Nebuchadnezzar ;  nay,  or  to  send  hither 
a  Persian  or  a  Mede  to  be  a  just  ruler  in  the  land." 

"  Hast  thou  read  it  in  the  stars,  or  have  thine  eyes 
seen  these  things  in  the  visions  of  the  night,  my 
master?"  The  boy  came  nearer  to  the  aged  prophet 
and  spoke  in  low  earnest  tones.  But  Daniel  only 
bent  his  head,  till  his  brow  touched  his  ebony  staff, 
and  so  he  remained,  deep  in  thought. 

"  For  I  also  have  dreamed,"  —  continued  Zoroaster, 
after  a  short  pause,  —  "  and  my  dream  took  hold  of 
me,  and  I  am  sorry  and  full  of  great  weariness.  Now 
this  is  the  manner  of  my  dreaming."  He  stopped 
and  glanced  down  the  great  nave  of  the  hall  through 
the  open  porch  at  the  other  end.  The  full  glory  of 
the  red  sun,  just  touching  the  western  plain,  streamed 
upon  his  face  and  made  the  tables,  the  preparations 
and  the  crowd  of  busy  serving-men  look  like  black 
shadows  between  him  and  the  light.  But  Daniel 
leaned  upon  his  staff  and  spoke  no  word,  nor  moved 
from  his  position. 

"  I  saw  in  my  dream,"  said  Zoroaster,  "  and  there 
was  darkness ;  and  upon  the  winds  of  the  night  arose 
the  sound  of  war,  and  the  cry  and  the  clash  of  battle, 
mighty  men  striving  one  with  another  for  the  mastery 
and  the  victory,  which  should  be  to  the  stronger. 
And  I  saw  again,  and  behold  it  was  morning,  and  the 
people  were  led  away  captive,  by  tens,  and  by  hun- 
dreds, and  by  thousands,  and  the  maidens  also  and 
young  women  into  a  far  country.  And  I  looked,  and 
the  face  of  one  of  the  maidens  was  as  the  face  of  the 


ZOEOASTEK.  7 

fairest  among  the  daughters  of  thy  people.  Then  my 
heart  yearned  for  her,  and  I  would  have  followed 
after  into  the  captivity ;  but  darkness  came  upon  me, 
and  I  saw  her  no  more.  Therefore  am  I  troubled 
and  go  heavily  all  the  day." 

He  ceased  and  the  cadence  of  the  boy's  voice 
trembled  and  was  sad.  The  sun  set  out  of  sight  be- 
neath the  plain,  and  from  far  off  a  great  sound  of 
music  came  in  upon  the  evening  breeze. 

Daniel  raised  his  snowy  head  and  gazed  keenly  on 
his  young  companion,  and  there  was  disappointment 
in  his  look. 

"Wouldst  thou  be  a  prophet?"  he  asked,  "thou 
that  dreamest  of  fair  maidens  and  art  disquieted  for 
the  love  of  a  woman  ?  Thinkest  thou,  boy,  that  a 
woman  shall  help  thee  when  thou  art  grown  to  b© 
a  man,  or  that  the  word  of  the  Lord  dwelleth  in  van- 
ity ?  Prophesy,  and  interpret  thy  vision,  if  so  be  that 
thou  art  able  to  interpret  it.  Come,  let  us  depart, 
for  the  king  is  at  hand,  and  the  night  shall  be  given 
over  for  a  space  to  the  rioters  and  the  mirth-makers, 
with  whom  our  portion  is  not.  Verily  I  also  have 
dreamed  a  dream.     Let  us  depart." 

The  venerable  prophet  stood  up  to  his  height,  and 
grasping  his  staff  in  his  right  hand,  began  to  lead  the 
way  from  the  hall.  Zoroaster  laid  hold  of  him  by 
the  arm,  as  though  entreating  him  to  remain. 

"  Speak,  master,"  he  cried  earnestly,  "  and  declare 
to  me  thy  dream,  and  see  whether  it  accords  with 
mine,  and  whether  there  shall  be  darkness  and 
rumour  of  war  in  the  land." 

But  Daniel  the  prophet  would  not  stay  to  speak, 


8  ZOKOASTER. 

but  went  out  of  the  hall,  and  Zoroaster  the  Persian 
youth  went  with  him,  pondering  deeply  on  the  pres- 
ent and  on  the  future,  and  on  the  nature  of  the  vision 
he  had  seen ;  and  made  fearful  by  the  silence  of  his 
friend  and  teacher. 

The  darkness  fell  upon  the  twilight,  and  within 
the  hall  the  lamps  and  candlesticks  were  kindled  and 
gave  out  warm  light  and  rare  perfumes.  All  down 
the  endless  rows  of  tables,  the  preparations  for  the 
feast  were  ready;  and  from  the  gardens  without, 
strains  of  music  came  up  ever  stronger  and  nearer, 
so  that  the  winged  sounds  seemed  to  come  into  the 
vast  building  and  hover  above  the  tables  and  seats  of 
honour,  preparing  the  way  for  the  guests.  Nearer 
and  nearer  came  the  harps  and  the  pipes  and  the 
trumpets  and  the  heavy  reed-toned  bagpipes,  and 
above  all  the  strong  rich  chorus  of  the  singers  chant- 
ing high  the  evening  hymn  of  praise  to  Bel,  god  of 
sunlight,  honoured  in  his  departing,  as  in  his  com- 
ing, with  the  music  of  the  youngest  and  most  tuneful 
voices  in  Shinar. 

First  came  the  priests  of  Bel,  two  and  two,  robed 
in  their  white  tunics,  loose  white  garments  on  their 
legs,  the  white  mitre  of  the  priestly  order  on  their 
heads,  and  their  great  beards  curled  smooth  and 
glossy  as  silk.  In  their  midst,  with  stately  dignity, 
walked  their  chief,  his  eyes  upon  the  ground,  his 
hands  crossed  upon  his  breast,  his  face  like  dark  mar- 
ble in  the  twilight.  On  either  side,  those  who  had 
officiated  at  the  sacrifice,  bore  the  implements  of  their 
service,  —  the  knife,  the  axe,  the  cord,  and  the  fire  in 
its  dish ;  and  their  hands  were  red  with  the  blood  of 


ZOROASTER.  9 

the  victim  lately  slain.  Grand,  great  men,  mighty  of 
body  and  broad  of  brow,  were  these  priests  of  Bel,  — 
strong  with  the  meat  and  the  wine  of  the  offerings 
that  were  their  daily  portion,  and  confident  in  the 
faith  of  their  ancient  wisdom. 

After  the  priests  the  musicians,  one  hundred  chosen 
men  of  skill,  making  strange  deep  harmonies  in  a 
noble  and  measured  rhythm,  marching  ten  and  ten 
abreast,  in  ten  ranks ;  and  as  they  came  on,  the  light 
streaming  from  the  porch  of  the  palace  caught  their 
silver  ornaments  and  the  strange  shapes  of  their  in- 
struments in  broken  reflections  between  the  twilight 
and  the  glare  of  the  lamps. 

Behind  these  came  the  singers,  —  of  young  boys 
two  hundred,  of  youths  a  hundred,  and  of  bearded 
men  also  a  hundred;  the  most  famous  of  all  that 
sang  praises  to  Bel  in  the  land  of  Assur.  Ten  and 
ten  they  marched,  with  ordered  ranks  and  step  in 
time  to  the  massive  beat  of  the  long-drawn  measure. 

"  Mighty  to  rule  the  day^  great  in  his  glory  and  the 
pride  of  his  heat, 
Shooting  great   bolts  of  light  into   the  dark  earth, 

turning  death  into  life, 
Making  the  seed  to  grow,  strongly  and  fairly,  high 

infurrotv  and  field. 
Making  the  heart  of  man  glad  with   his  gladness, 
rideth  over  the  dawn 

Bel,  the  prince,  the  king  of  kings, 

"  Hotly  his  flaming  hair,  streaming  with   brightness, 
and  the  locks  of  his  beard 


10  ZOEOASTEK. 

CurVd   into    clouds  of  heat^  sweeping   the    heavens^ 

spread  all  over  the  sky  : 
Who  shall  abide  his  face^  fearful  and  deadly^  when 

he  devours  the  land^ 
Angry  with  man  and  beast,  horribly  raging,  hungry 
for  sacrifice? 

Bel,  the  prince,  the  king  of  kings, 

"  Striding  his  three  great  strides,  out  of  the  morning 
through  the  noon  to  the  night, 
Cometh  he  down  at  last,  ready  for  feasting,  ready 

for  sacrifice : 
Then  doth   he  tread  the  wine,  purple  and  golden, 

foaming  deep  in  the  west ; 
Shinar  is  spread  for  him,  spread  as  a  table,  Assur 
shall  be  his  seat : 

Belt  the  prince,  the  king  of  kings, 

"  Bring  him  the  fresh-slain  flesh,  roast  it  with  fire, 
with  the  savour  of  salt. 
Pour  him  the  strength  of  wine,  chalice  and  goblet, 

trodden  for  him  alone: 
liaise  him  the  song  of  songs,  cry  out  in  praises,  cry 

out  and  supplicate 
That  he  may  drink  delight,  tasting  our  offering,  hear- 
ing our  evening  song : 

Bel,  the  prince,  the  king  of  kings, 

'^  So,  in  the  gentle  night,  when  he  is  resting,  peace 
descendeth  on  earth  ; 
High  in   the  firmament,  where   his  steps   led  him, 
gleam  the  tracks  of  his  way  : 


ZOEOASTER.  11 

Where  the  day  felt  his  touchy  there  the  night  also 

hreaketh  forth  into  stars, 
These  are  the  flowers  of  heaven,  garlands  of  hlossomSy 

growing  to  weave  his  crown : 

Bel,  the  prince,  the  king  of  kings, 

'''Hail!   thou  king  of  the  earth,  hail!   Belteshazzar^ 
hail !  and  for  ever  live  ! 
Born   of  the  gods   on   high,  prince  of  the  nations, 

ruling  over  the  world  : 
Thou  art  the  son  of  Bel,  full  of  his  glory,  king  over 

death  and  life  ; 
Let  all   the  people   how,  tremble  and  worship,  how 
them  down  and  adore 

The  prince  of  Bel,  the  king  of  kings,^"* 

As  the  musicians  played  and  the  singers  sang,  they 
divided  their  ranks  and  came  and  stood  on  each  side 
of  the  broad  marble  staircase ;  and  the  priests  had 
done  so  before  them,  but  the  chief  priest  stood  alone 
on  the  lowest  step. 

Then,  between  the  files  of  those  who  stood,  ad- 
vanced the  royal  procession,  like  a  river  of  gold  and 
purple  and  precious  stones  flowing  between  banks  of 
pure  white.  Ten  and  ten,  a  thousand  lords  of  Baby- 
lon marched  in  stately  throng,  and  in  their  midst  rode 
Belshazzar  the  king,  high  upon  his  coal-black  steed, 
crowned  with  the  great  tiara  of  white  linen  and  gold 
and  jewels,  the  golden  sceptre  of  the  kingdom  in  his 
right  hand.  And  after  the  lords  and  the  king  came 
a  long  procession  of  litters  borne  by  stalwart  slaves, 
wherein  reclined  the  fairest  women  of  all  Assyria, 


12  ZOROASTER. 

bidden  to  the  great  feast.  Last  of  all,  the  spearmen 
of  the  guard  in  armour  all  chased  with  gold,  their 
mantles  embroidered  with  the  royal  cognisance,  and 
their  beards  trimmed  and  curled  in  the  close  soldier 
fashion,  brought  up  the  rear ;  a  goodly  company  of 
men  of  war. 

As  the  rich  voices  of  the  singers  intoned  the  grand 
plain  chant  of  the  last  stanza  in  the  hymn,  the  king 
was  in  the  middle  of  the  open  space  at  the  foot  of  the 
staircase ;  there  he  drew  rein  and  sat  motionless  on 
his  horse,  awaiting  the  end.  As  the  ripe  corn  bends 
in  its  furrows  to  the  wind,  so  the  royal  host  around 
turned  to  the  monarch,  and  fell  upon  their  faces  as 
the  music  died  away  at  the  signal  of  the  high  priest. 
With  one  consent  the  lords,  the  priests,  the  singers 
and  the  spearmen  bowed  and  prostrated  themselves  on 
the  ground ;  the  bearers  of  the  litters  set  down  their 
burden  while  they  did  homage ;  and  each  of  those 
beautiful  women  bent  far  forward,  kneeling  in  her 
litter,  and  hid  her  head  beneath  her  veil. 

Only  the  king  sat  erect  and  motionless  upon  his 
steed,  in  the  midst  of  the  adoring  throng.  The  light 
from  the  palace  played  strangely  on  his  face,  making 
the  sneering  smile  more  scornful  upon  his  pale  lips, 
and  shading  his  sunken  eyes  with  a  darker  shadow. 

While  you  might  count  a  score  there  was  silence, 
and  the  faint  evening  breeze  wafted  the  sweet  smell 
of  the  roses  from  the  gardens  to  the  king's  nostrils,  as 
though  even  the  earth  would  bring  incense  of  adora- 
tion to  acknowledge  his  tremendous  power. 

Then  the  host  rose  again  and  fell  back  on  either 
side  while  the  king  rode   to   the  staircase   and  dis- 


ZOROASTER.  13 

mounted,  leading  the  wa}^  to  the  banquet ;  and  the 
high  priest  followed  him  and  all  the  ranks  of  tlie 
lords  and  princes  and  the  ladies  of  Babylon,  in  their 
beauty  and  magnificence,  went  up  the  marble  steps 
and  under  the  marble  porch,  spreading  then  like  a 
river,  about  the  endless  tables,  almost  to  the  feet  of 
the  golden  image  of  Nebuchadnezzar.  And  presently, 
from  beneath  the  colonnades  a  sound  of  sweet  music 
stole  out  again  and  filled  the  air;  the  serving-men 
hurried  hither  and  thither,  the  black  slaves  plied  their 
palm-leaf  fans  behind  each  guest,  and  the  banquet 
was  begun. 

Surely,  a  most  glorious  feast,  wherein  the  hearts  of 
the  courtiers  waxed  merry,  and  the  dark  eyes  of  the 
Assyrian  women  shot  glances  sweeter  than  the  sweet- 
meats of  Egypt  and  stronger  than  the  wine  of  the 
south  to  move  the  spirit  of  njan.  Even  the  dark  king, 
wasted  and  hollow-eyed  with  too  much  pleasure-seek- 
ing, smiled  and  laughed,  —  sourly  enough  at  first,  it 
is  true,  but  in  time  growing  careless  and  merry  by 
reason  of  his  deep  draughts.  His  hand  trembled  less 
weakly  as  the  wine  gave  him  back  his  lost  strength, 
and  more  than  once  his  fingers  toyed  playfully  with 
the  raven  locks  and  the  heavy  earrings  of  the  mag- 
nificent princess  at  his  elbow.  Some  word  of  hers 
roused  a  thought  in  his  whirling  brain. 

"Is  not  this  day  the  feast  of  victories?"  he  cried 
in  sudden  animation ;  and  there  was  silence  to  catch 
the  king's  words.  "Is  not  this  the  day  wherein 
my  sire  brought  home  the  wealth  of  the  Israelites, 
kept  holy  with  feasting  for  ever?  Bring  me  the 
vessels  of  the  unbelievers'  temple,  that  I  may  drink 


14  ZOROASTER. 

and  pour  out  wine  tliis  night  to  Bel,  the  god  of 
gods ! " 

The  keeper  of  the  treasure  had  anticipated  the 
king's  desire  and  had  caused  everything  to  be  made 
ready;  for  scarcely  had  Belshazzar  spoken  when  a 
long  train  of  serving-men  entered  the  hall  of  the 
banquet  and  came  and  stood  before  the  royal  pres- 
ence, their  white  garments  and  the  rich  vessels  they 
bore  aloft  standing  vividly  out  against  the  deep  even 
red  of  the  opposite  wall. 

"Let  the  vessels  be  distributed  among  us,"  cried 
the  king,  —  "to  every  man  a  cup  or  a  goblet  till  all 
are  served." 

And  so  it  was  done,  and  the  royal  cup-bearer  came 
and  filled  the  huge  chalice  that  the  king  held,  and 
the  serving-men  hastened  to  fill  all  the  cuj^s  and  the 
small  basins ;  ^^^hile  the  lords  and  princes  laughed  at 
the  strange  shapes,  and  eyed  greedily  enough  the 
thickness  and  the  good  workmanship  oi  the  gold 
and  silver.  And  so  each  man  and  each  woman 
had  a  vessel  from  the  temple  of  Jerusalem  wherein 
to  drink  to  the  glory  of  Bel  the  god  and  of  Bel- 
shazzar his  prince.  And  when  all  was  ready,  th^ 
king  took  his  chalice  in  his  two  hands  and  stood 
up,  and  all  that  company  of  courtiers  stood  up  with 
him,  while  a  mighty  strain  of  music  burst  through 
the  perfumed  air,  and  the  serving-men  showered 
flowers  and  sprinkled  sweet  odours  on  the  tables. 

"Without  stood  the  Angel  of  Death,  whetting  his 
sword  upon  the  stones  of  Babylon.  But  Belshazzar 
held  the  chalice  and  spoke  with  a  loud  voice  to  the 
princes  and  the  lords  and  the  fair  women  that  stood 
about  the  tables  in  the  great  hall : 


ZOROASTER.  15 

"  I,  Belshazzar  the  king,  standing  in  the  hall  of  my 
fathers,  do  pour  and  drink  this  wine  to  the  mighty 
majesty  of  Bel  the  great  god,  who  lives  for  ever  and 
ever ;  before  whom  the  gods  of  the  north  and  of  the 
west  and  of  the  east  and  of  the  south  are  as  the  sand 
of  the  desert  in  the  blast;  at  whose  sight  the  vain 
deities  of  Egypt  crumbled  into  pieces,  and  the  God  of 
the  Israelites  trembled  and  was  made  little  in  the 
days  of  Nebuchadnezzar  my  sire.  And  I  command 
you,  lords  and  princes  of  Babylon,  you  and  your  wives 
and  your  fair  women,  that  ye  also  do  pour  wine  and 
drink  it,  doing  this  homage  to  Bel  our  god,  and  to  me, 
Belshazzar  the  king." 

And  so  saying,  he  turned  about  to  one  side  and 
spilled  a  few  drops  of  wine  upon  the  marble  floor,  and 
set  the  cup  to  his  lips,  facing  the  great  throng  of  his 
guests;  and  he  di^ank.  But  from  all  the  banquet 
went  up  a  great  shout. 

"  Hail !  king,  live  for  ever  !  Hail !  prince  of  Bel, 
live  for  ever  !  Hail !  king  of  kings,  live  for  ever !  " 
Long  and  loud  was  the  cry,  ringing  and  surging  through 
the  pillars  and  up  to  the  great  carved  rafters  till  the 
very  walls  seemed  to  rock  and  tremble  with  the  din 
of  the  king's  praise. 

Slowly  Belshazzar  drained  the  cup  to  the  dregs, 
while  with  half-closed  eyes  he  listened  to  the  uproar, 
and  perhaps  sneered  to  himself  behind  the  chalice,  as 
was  his  wont.  Then  he  set  the  vessel  down  and 
looked  up.  But  as  he  looked  he  staggered  and  turned 
pale,  and  would  have  fallen ;  he  grasped  the  ivory 
chair  behind  him  and  stood  trembling  in  every  joint, 
and  his   knees   knocking   together,    while   his   eyes 


16  ZOROASTER. 

seemed  starting  from  his  head,  and  all  his  face  was 
changed  and  distorted  with  dreadful  fear. 

Upon  the  red  plaster  of  the  wall,  over  against  the 
candlestick  which  shed  its  strong  rays  upon  the  fear- 
ful sight,  the  fingers  of  a  vast  hand  moved  and  traced 
letters.  Only  the  fingers  could  be  seen,  colossal  and 
of  dazzling  brightness,  and  as  they  slowly  did  their 
work,  huge  characters  of  fire  blazed  out  upon  the  dark 
red  surface,  and  their  lambent  angry  flame  dazzled 
those  who  beheld,  and  the  terror  of  terrors  fell  upon 
all  the  great  throng ;  for  they  stood  before  Him  whose 
shadow  is  immortality  and  death. 

In  a  silence  that  could  be  felt,  the  dread  hand  com- 
pleted its  message  and  vanished  out  of  sight,  but  the 
strange  fire  burned  bright  in  the  horrid  characters  of 
the  writing  that  remained  upon  the  wall. 

This  was  the  inscription  in  Chaldean  letters : 

SUTMM 

IPKNN 

NRLAA 

Then  at  last  the  king  found  speech  and  shrieked 
aloud  wildly,  and  he  commanded  that  they  should 
bring  in  all  the  astrologers,  the  Chaldeans  and  the 
diviners,  for  he  was  in  great  terror  and  he  dreaded 
some  fearful  and  imminent  catastrophe. 

"Whoever  shall  read  this  writing,"  he  cried,  his 
voice  changed  and  broken,  "and  declare  to  me  the 
meaning  of  it,  shall  be  clothed  in  purple,  and  shall 
have  a  chain  of  gold  about  his  neck  and  shall  rule  as 
the  third  in  the  kingdom." 

Amidst  the  mighty  confusion  of  fear,  the  wise  men 
were  brought  in  before  the  king. 


ZOEOASTER.  17 


CHAPTER  11. 

In  Ecbatana  of  Media  Daniel  dwelt  in  his  extreme 
old  age.  There  he  built  himself  a  tower  within  the 
seven-fold  walls  of  the  royal  fortress,  upon  the  sum- 
mit of  the  hill,  looking  northward  towards  the  forests 
of  the  mountains,  and  southward  over  the  plain,  and 
eastward  to  the  river,  and  westward  to  Mount  Zagros. 
His  life  was  spent,  and  he  was  well-nigh  a  hundred 
years  old.  Seventeen  years  had  passed  since  he  had 
interpreted  the  fatal  writing  on  the  wall  of  the  ban- 
quet-hall in  Babylon  in  the  night  when  Nabonnedon 
Belshazzar  was  slain,  and  the  kingdom  of  the  Assyr- 
ians destroyed  for  ever.  Again  and  again  invested 
with  power  and  with  the  governorship  of  provinces, 
he  had  toiled  unceasingly  in  the  reigns  of  Cyrus  and 
Cambyses,  and  though  he  was  on  the  very  boundary 
of  possible  lifetime,  his  brain  was  unclouded,  and  hia 
eye  keen  and  undimmed  still.  Only  his  grand  figure 
was  more  bent  and  his  step  slower  than  before. 

He  dwelt  in  Ecbatana  of  the  north,  in  the  tower  he 
had  built  for  himself.^  In  the  midst  of  the  royal 
palaces  of  the  stronghold  he  had  laid  the  foundations 
duly  to  the  north  and  south,  and  story  upon  story  had 
risen,  row  upon  row  of  columns,  balcony  upon  balcony 
of  black  marble,  sculptured  richly  from  basement  to 
turret,  and  so  smooth   and   hard,  that  its  polished 

1  Josephius,  Antiquities  of  the  Jews,  book  x.  chap.  xi.  7. 


18  ZOKO  ASTER. 

corners  and  sides  and  ornaments  glittered  like  black 
diamonds  in  the  hot  sun  of  the  noonday,  and  cast 
back  the  moonbeams  at  night  in  a  darkly  brilliant 
reflection. 

Far  down  below,  in  the  gorgeous  dAvellings  that 
filled  the  interior  of  the  fortress,  dwelt  the  kinsfolk 
oi  the  aged  prophet,  and  the  families  of  the  two 
Levites  who  had  remained  with  Daniel  and  had 
chosen  to  follow  him  to  his  new  home  in  Media 
rather  than  to  return  to  Jerusalem  under  Zerubbabel, 
when  Cyrus  issued  the  writ  for  the  rebuilding  of  the 
temple.  There  lived  also  in  the  palace  Zoroaster, 
the  Persian  prince,  being  now  in  the  thirty-first  year 
of  his  age,  and  captain  of  the  city  and  of  the  strong- 
hold. And  there,  too,  surrounded  by  her  handmaid- 
ens and  slaves,  in  a  wing  of  the  palace  apart  from  the 
rest,  and  more  beautiful  for  its  gardens  and  marvel- 
lous adornment,  lived  Nehushta,  the  last  of  the  de- 
scendants of  Jehoiakim  the  king  remaining  in  Media ; 
she  was  the  fairest  of  all  the  women  in  Media,  of 
royal  blood  and  of  more  than  royal  beauty. 

She  was  born  in  that  year  when  Babylon  was  over- 
thrown, and  Daniel  had  brought  her  with  him  to 
Shushan  when  he  had  quitted  Assyria,  and  thence  to 
Ecbatana.  In  the  care  of  the  prophet's  kinswomen 
the  little  maid  had  thriven  and  grown  fair  in  the 
stranger's  land.  Her  soft  child's  eyes  had  lost  their 
wondering  look  and  had  turned  very  proud  and  dark, 
and  the  long  black  lashes  that  fringed  the  heavy  lids 
drooped  to  her  cheek  when  she  looked  down.  Her 
features  were  noble  and  almost  straight  in  outline, 
but  in  the  slight  bend  at  the  beginning  of  the  nose, 


ZOROASTER.  19 

in  the  wide  curved  nostrils,  the  strong  full  lips,  and 
in  the  pale  olive  skin,  where  the  blood  ebbed  and 
flowed  so  generously,  the  signs  of  the  Jewish  race 
were  all  present  and  unmistakable. 

Nehushta,  the  high-born  lady  of  Judah,  was  a  prin- 
cess in  every  movement,  in  every  action,  in  every 
word  she  uttered.  The  turn  of  her  proud  head  was 
sovereign  in  its  expression  of  approval  or  contempt, 
and  Zoroaster  himself  bowed  to  the  simple  gesture  oi 
her  hand  as  obediently  as  he  would  have  done  before 
the  Great  King  in  all  his  glory.  Even  the  venerable 
prophet,  sitting  in  his  lofty  tower  high  above  the  city 
and  the  fortress,  absorbed  in  the  contemplation  of 
that  other  life  which  was  so  very  near  to  him,  smiled 
tenderly  and  stretched  out  his  old  hands  to  greet 
Nehushta  when  she  mounted  to  his  chamber  at  sun- 
set, attended  by  her  maidens  and  her  slaves.  She 
was  the  youngest  of  all  his  kinsfolk  —  fatherless  and 
motherless,  the  last  direct  descendant  of  King  Jehoi- 
akim  remaining  in  Media,  and  the  aged  prophet  and 
governor  cherished  her  and  loved  her  for  her  royalty, 
as  well  as  for  her  beauty  and  her  kinship  to  himself. 
Assyrian  in  his  education,  Persian  in  his  adherence 
to  the  conquering  dynasty  and  in  his  long  and  faith- 
ful service  of  the  Persians,  Daniel  was  yet  in  his 
heart,  as  in  his  belief,  a  true  son  of  Judah ;  proud  of 
his  race  and  tender  of  its  young  branches,  as  though 
he  were  himself  the  father  of  his  country  and  the 
king  of  his  people. 

The  last  red  glow  of  the  departed  day  faded  and 
sank  above  the  black  Zagros  mountains  to  westward. 
The  opposite  sky  was  cold  and  gray,  and  all  the 


20  ZOROASTER. 

green  plain  turned  to  a  dull  soft  hue  as  the  twilight 
crept  over  it,  ever  darker  and  more  misty.  In  the 
gardens  of  the  palace  the  birds  in  thousands  sang 
together  in  chorus,  as  only  Eastern  birds  do  sing  at 
sunrise  and  at  nightfall,  and  their  voices  sounded 
like  one  strong,  sweet,  high  chord,  unbroken  and 
drawn  out. 

Nehushta  wandered  in  the  broad  paths  alone.  The 
dry  warm  air  of  the  summer's  evening  had  no  chill  in 
it,  and  though  a  fine  woven  mantle  of  purple  from 
Srinagur  hung  loosely  from  her  shoulders,  she  needed 
not  to  draw  it  about  her.  The  delicate  folds  of  her 
upper  tunic  fell  closely  around  her  to  her  knees,  and 
were  gathered  at  the  waist  by  a  magnificent  belt  of 
wrought  gold  and  pearls ;  the  long  sleeves,  drawn  in 
at  the  wrist  by  clasps  of  pearls,  almost  covered  her 
slender  hands ;  and  as  she  walked  her  delicate  feet 
moved  daintily  in  rich  embroidered  sandals  with  high 
golden  heels,  below  the  folds  of  the  wide  trousers  of 
white  and  gold  embroidery,  gathered  in  at  the  ankle. 
Upon  her  head  the  stiff  linen  tiara  of  spotless  white 
sat  proudly  as  a  royal  crown,  the  folds  of  it  held  by 
a  single  pearl  of  price,  and  from  beneath  it  her  mag- 
nificent hair  rolled  down  below  her  waist  in  dark 
smooth  waves. 

There  was  a  terrace  that  looked  eastward  from  the 
gardens.  Thither  Nehushta  bent  hex  steps,  slowly, 
as  though  in  deep  thought,  and  when  she  reached  the 
smooth  marble  balustrade,  she  leaned  over  it  and  let 
her  dark  eyes  rest  on  the  quiet  landscape.  The  peace 
of  the  evening  descended  upon  her ;  the  birds  of  the 
day  ceased  singing  with  the  growing  darkness ;    and 


ZOEOASTER.  21 

slowly,  out  of  the  plain,  the  yellow  moon  soared  up 
and  touched  the  river  and  the  meadows  with  mystic 
light ;  while  far  off,  in  the  rose-thickets  of  the  gar- 
dens, the  first  notes  of  a  single  nightingale  floated 
upon  the  scented  breeze,  swelling  and  trilling,  quiver- 
ing and  falling  again,  in  a  glory  of  angelic  song. 
The  faint  air  fanned  her  cheek,  the  odours  of  the  box 
and  the  myrtle  and  the  roses  intoxicated  her  senses, 
and  as  the  splendid  shield  of  the  rising  moon  cast  its 
broad  light  ilito  her  dreaming  eyes,  her  heart  over- 
flowed, and  Nehushta  the  princess  lifted  up  her  voice 
and  sang  an  ancient  song  of  love,  in  the  tongue  of 
her  people,  to  a  soft  minor  melody,  that  sounded  like 
a  sigh  from  the  southern  desert. 

"  Come  unto  me,  my  beloved,  in  the  warmth  of  the 
darkness,  come  — 
Bise,  and  hasten  thy  footsteps,  to  be  with  me  at 
night-time,  come! 

^' I  wait  in  the  darkness  for  him,  and  the  sand  oj 
the  desert  ivhirling 
Is  blown  at  the  door  of  my  tent  which  is   open 
toward  the  desert. 

"  My  ear  in  the  darkness  listeth  for  the  sound  of 
his  coming  nearer. 
Mine  eyes  "natch  for  him  and  rest  not,  for  Iivould 
not  he  found  me  sleeping. 

"  For  when  my  beloved  cometh,  he  is  like  the  beam 
of  the  morning  ;  ^ 

1  »'  Thou  art  to  me  as  the  beam  of  the  east  rising  in  a  strange 
land." —  Ossian. 


22  ZOROASTER. 

Ev^n  as  the  dawn  in  a  strange  land  to  the  sight  of 
a  man  journeying. 

"  Yea.,  when  my  beloved  cometh,  as  dew  that  descend- 
ethfrom  heaven., 
No  man  can  hear  ivhen  it  falleth.,  hut  as  rain  it 
refresheth  all  things. 

^^  In  his  hand  hringeth  he  lilies.,  in  his  right  hand 
are  many  flowers., 
Roses  hath  he  on  his  forehead.^  he  is  croivned  with 
roses  from  Shinar, 

"  The  night-winds  make  siveet  songs  for  him.,  even  in 
the  darkness  soft  music  ; 
Whithersoever  he  goeth^  there  his  sweetness  goeth 
before  him.^^ 

Her  young  voice  died  away  in  a  soft  murmuring 
cadence,  and  the  nightingale  alone  poured  out  her 
heartful  of  love  to  the  ancient  moon.  But  as  Ne- 
hushta  rested  immovable  by  the  marble  balustrade 
of  the  terrace,  there  was  a  rustle  among  the  myrtles 
and  a  quick  step  on  the  pavement.  The  dark  maiden 
started  at  the  sound,  and  a  happy  smile  parted  her 
lips.  But  she  did  not  turn  to  look ;  only  her  hand 
stole  out  behind  her  on  the  marble  where  she  knew 
her  lover's  would  meet  it.  There  was  in  the  move- 
ment all  the  certainty  of  conquest  and  yet  all  the 
tenderness  of  love.  The  Persian  trod  quickly  and 
laid  his  hand  on  hers,  and  bent  to  her,  trying  to  meet 
her  eyes  :  for  one  moment  still  she  gazed  out  straight 
before  her,  then  turned  and  faced  him  suddenly,  as 


ZOEOASTER.  23 

though  she  had  withheld  her  welcome  as  long  as  she 
could  and  then  given  it  all  at  once. 

"  I  did  not  call  you,"  she  said,  covering  him  with 
her  eyes  in  the  moonlight,  but  making  as  though  she 
would  withdraw  herself  a  little  from  him,  as  he  drew 
her  with  his  hand,  and  with  his  arm,  and  with  his 
eyes. 

"  And  yet  I  heard  you  call  me,  my  beloved,"  an- 
swered Zoroaster.  "  I  heard  your  voice  singing  very 
sweet  things  in  your  own  language  —  and  so  I  came, 
for  you  did  call  me." 

"But  did  you  pride  yourself  it  was  for  you?" 
laughed  Nehushta.  "  I  sang  of  the  desert,  and  of 
tents,  and  of  whirling  sand  —  there  is  none  of  these 
things  here." 

"  You  said  that  your  beloved  brought  roses  in  his 
hand  —  and  so  I  do.  I  will  crown  you  with  them. 
May  I  ?  No  —  I  shall  spoil  your  head-dress.  Take 
them  and  do  as  you  will  with  them." 

"  I  will  take  them  —  and  —  I  always  do  as  I  will." 

"  Then  will  to  take  the  giver  also,"  answered  Zoro- 
aster, letting  his  arm  steal  about  her,  as  he  half  sat 
upon  the  balustrade.  Nehushta  looked  at  him  again, 
for  he  was  good  to  see,  and  perhaps  she  loved  his 
straight  calm  features  the  better  in  that  his  face  was 
fair,  and  not  dark  like  hers. 

"  Me  thinks  I  have  taken  the  giver  already,"  she 
answered. 

"  Not  yet  —  not  all,"  said  Zoroaster  in  a  low  voice, 
and  a  shadow  of  sadness  crossed  his  noble  face  that 
looked  white  in  the  moonlight.  Nehushta  sighed 
softly  and  presently  she   laid  her  cheek  upon  his 


24  ZOROASTER. 

shoulder  where  the  folding  of  his  purple  mantle 
made  a  pillow  between  her  face  and  the  polished 
golden  scales  of  his  breastplate. 

"  I  have  strange  news  to  tell  you,  beloved,"  said 
Zoroaster  presently.  Nehushta  started  and  looked 
up,  for  his  voice  was  sad.  "  Nay,  fear  not  1  "  he 
continued,  "  there  is  no  harm  in  it,  I  trust ;  but  there 
are  great  changes  in  the  kingdom,  and  there  will  be 
greater  changes  yet.  The  seven  princes  have  slain 
Smerdis  in  Shushan,  and  Darius  is  chosen  king,  the 
son  of  Gushtasp,  whom  the  Greeks  call  Hystaspes." 

"  He  who  came  hither  last  year  ? ''  asked  Nehushta 
quickly.     "  He  is  not  fair,  this  new  king." 

"  Not  fair,"  replied  the  Persian,  "  but  a  brave  man 
and  a  good.  He  has,  moreover,  sent  for  me  to  go  to 
Shushan " 

"  For  you  !  "  cried  Nehushta,  suddenly  laying  her 
two  hands  on  Zoroaster's  shoulders  and  gazing  into 
his  eyes.  His  face  was  to  the  moonlight,  while  hers 
was  in  the  dark,  and  she  could  see  every  shade  of 
expression.  He  smiled.  "  You  laugh  at  me  I  "  she 
cried  indignantly.  "  You  mock  me  —  you  are  going 
away  and  you  are  glad !  " 

She  would  have  turned  away  from  him,  but  he  held 
her  two  hands. 

"  Not  alone,"  he  answered.  "  The  Great  King  has 
sent  an  order  that  I  shall  bring  to  Shushan  the  kins- 
folk of  Jehoiakim,  saving  only  Daniel,  our  master,  for 
he  is  so  old  that  he  cannot  perform  the  journey.  The 
king  would  honour  the  royal  seed  of  Judah,  and  to 
that  end  he  sends  for  you,  most  noble  and  most  beloved 
princess." 


ZOROASTER.  25 

Nehushta  was  silent  and  thoughtful;  her  hand 
slipped  from  Zoroaster's  grasp,  and  her  eyes  looked 
dreamily  out  at  the  river,  on  which  the  beams  of  the 
now  fully-risen  moon  glanced,  as  on  the  scales  of  a 
silver  serpent. 

"  Are  you  glad,  my  beloved  ?  "  asked  Zoroaster. 
He  stood  with  his  back  to  the  balustrade,  leaning  on 
one  elbow,  and  his  right  hand  played  carelessly  with 
the  heavy  gold  tassels  of  his  cloak.  He  had  come  up 
from  the  fortress  in  his  armour,  as  he  was,  to  bring 
the  news  to  Nehushta  and  to  Daniel ;  his  gilded  har- 
ness was  on  his  back,  half-hidden  by  the  ample  purple 
cloak,  his  sword  was  by  his  side,  and  on  his  head  he 
wore  the  pointed  helmet,  richly  inlaid  with  gold,  bear- 
ing in  front  the  winged  wheel  which  the  sovereigns 
of  the  Persian  empire  had  assumed  after  the  conquest 
of  Assyria.  His  very  tall  and  graceful  body  seemed 
planned  to  combine  the  greatest  possible  strength  with 
the  most  surpassing  activity,  and  in  his  whole  presence 
there  breathed  the  consciousness  of  ready  and  elastic 
power,  the  graceful  elasticity  of  a  steel  bow  always 
bent,  the  inexpressible  ease  of  motion  and  the  m:;,tch- 
less  swiftness  that  men  had  when  the  world  was  young 
— that  wholeness  of  harmonious  proportion  which  alone 
makes  rest  graceful,  and  the  inactivity  of  idleness  itself 
like  a  mode  of  perfect  motion.  As  they  stood  there 
together,  the  princess  of  Judah  and  the  noble  Persian, 
they  were  wholly  beautiful  and  yet  wholly  contrasted 
—  the  Semite  and  the  Aryan,  the  dark  race  of  the 
south,  on  which  the  hot  air  of  the  desert  had  breathed 
for  generations  in  the  bondage  of  ^gypU  and  left  its 
warm  sign-manual  of   southern  sunshine,  —  and  the 


26  ZOROASTEK. 

fair  man  of  the  people  whose  faces  were  already  set 
northwards,  on  whom  the  north  breathed  already 
its  icy  fairness,  and  magnificent  coldness  of  steely 
strength. 

"Are  you  glad,  my  beloved?"  asked  Zoroaster 
again,  looking  up  and  laying  his  right  hand  on  the 
princess's  arm.  She  had  given  no  answer  to  his  ques- 
tion, but  only  gazed  dreamily  out  over  the  river. 

She  seemed  about  to  speak,  then  paused  again,  then 
hesitated  and  answered  his  question  by  another. 

'^  Zoroaster  —  you  love  me,"  again  she  paused,  and, 
as  he  passionately  seized  her  hands  and  pressed  his 
lips  to  them,  she  said  softly,  turning  her  head  away, 
"What  is  love?" 

He,  too,  waited  one  moment  before  he  answered, 
and,  standing  to  his  lordly  height,  took  her  head  be- 
tween his  hands  and  pressed  it  to  his  breast ;  then, 
with  one  arm  around  her,  he  stood  looking  eastward 
and  spoke : 

"  Listen,  my  beloved,  and  I,  who  love  you,  will  tell 
you  what  love  is.  In  the  far-off  dawn  of  the  soul- 
lir^,  in  the  ethereal  distance  of  the  outer  firmament, 
in  the  mist  of  the  star-dust,  our  spirits  were  quick- 
ened with  the  spirit  of  God,  and  found  one  another, 
and  met.  Before  earth  was  for  us,  we  were  one; 
before  time  was  for  us,  we  were  one  —  even  as  we 
shall  be  one  when  there  is  no  time  for  us  any  more. 
Then  Ahura  Mazda,  the  all-wise  God,  took  our  two 
souls  from  among  the  stars,  and  set  them  in  the 
earth,  clothed  for  a  time  Avith  mortal  bodies.  But 
we  know  each  other,  that  we  were  together  from  the 
first,  although  these  earthly  things  obscure  our  im- 


ZOROASTER.  27 

mortal  vision,  and  we  see  each  other  less  clearly. 
Yet  is  our  love  none  the  less  —  rather,  it  seems  every 
day  greater,  for  our  bodies  can  feel  joy  and  sorrow, 
even  as  our  spirits  do  ;  so  that  I  am  able  to  suffer 
for  you,  in  which  I  rejoice,  and  I  would  that  I  might 
be  chosen  to  lay  down  my  life  for  you,  that  you 
might  know  how  I  love  you  ;  for  often  you  doubt 
me,  and  sometimes  you  doubt  yourself.  There 
should  be  no  doubt  in  love.  Love  is  from  the  first, 
and  will  be  to  the  end,  and  beyond  the  end ;  love  is 
so  eternal,  so  great,  so  whole,  that  this  mortal  life  of 
ours  is  but  as  a  tiny  instant,  a  moment  of  pausing  in 
our  journey  from  one  star-world  to  another  along  the 
endless  paths  of  heavenly  glory  we  shall  tread  to- 
gether—  it  is  nothing,  this  worldly  life  of  ours. 
Before  it  shall  seem  long  that  we  have  loved,  this 
earth  we  stand  on,  these  things  we  touch,  these 
bodies  of  ours  that  we  think  so  strong  and  fair,  will 
be  forgotten  and  dissolved  into  their  elements  in  the 
trackless  and  undiscoverable  waste  of  past  mortality, 
while  we  ourselves  are  ever  young,  and  ever  fair, 
and  for  ever  living  in  our  immortal  love." 

Nehushta  looked  up  wonderingly  into  her  lover's 
eyes,  then  let  her  head  rest  on  his  shoulder.  The 
high  daring  of  his  thoughts  seemed  ever  trying  to 
scale  heaven  itself,  seeking  to  draw  her  to  some  won- 
drous region  of  mystic  beauty  and  strange  spirit  life. 
She  was  awed  for  a  moment,  then  she,  too,  spoke  in 
her  own  fashion. 

"  I  love  life,"  she  said,  "  I  love  you  because  you 
live,  not  because  you  are  a  spirit  chained  and  tied 
down  for  a  time.     I  love  this  soft  sweet  earth,  the 


28  ZOROASTER. 

dawn  of  it,  and  the  twilight  of  it ;  I  love  the  sun  in 
his  rising  and  in  his  setting ;  I  love  the  moon  in  heT 
fulness  and  in  her  waning ;  I  love  the  smell  of  the 
box  and  of  the  myrtle,  of  the  roses  and  of  the  violets; 
I  love  the  glorious  light  of  day,  the  splendour  of  heat 
and  greenness,  the  song  of  the  birds  of  the  air  and 
the  song  of  the  labourer  in  the  field,  the  hum  of  the 
locust,  and  the  soft  buzzing  of  the  bee ;  I  love  the 
brightness  of  gold  and  the  richness  of  fine  purple,  the 
tramp  of  your  splendid  guards  and  the  ring  of  their 
trumpets  clanging  in  the  fresh  morning,  as  they  march 
through  the  marble  courts  of  the  palace.  I  love  the 
gloom  of  night  for  its  softness,  the  song  of  the  night- 
ingale in  the  ivory  moonlight,  the  rustle  of  the 
breeze  in  the  dark  rose-thickets,  and  the  odour  of  the 
sleeping  flowers  in  my  gardens  ;  I  love  even  the  cry 
of  the  owl  from  the  prophet's  tower,  and  the  soft 
thick  sound  of  the  bat's  wings,  as  he  flits  past  the 
netting  of  my  window.  I  love  it  all,  for  the  whole 
earth  is  rich  and  young  and  good  to  touch,  and  most 
sweet  to  live  in.  And  I  love  you  because  you  are 
more  beautiful  than  other  men,  fairer  and  stronger 
and  braver,  and  because  you  love  me,  and  will  let  no 
other  love  me  but  yourself,  if  you  were  to  die  for  it. 
Ah,  my  beloved,  I  would  that  I  had  all  the  sweet 
voices  of  the  earth,  all  the  tuneful  tongues  of  the  air, 
to  tell  you  how  I  love  you !  " 

'^  There  is  no  lack  of  sweetness,  nor  of  eloquence, 
my  princess,"  said  Zoroaster;  "there  is  no  need  of 
any  voice  sweeter  than  yours,  nor  of  any  tongue  more 
tuneful.  You  love  in  your  way,  I  in  mine  ;  the  two 
together  must  surely  be  the  perfect  whole.     Is  it  not 


ZOROASTER.  29 

SO?  Nay  —  seal  the  deed  once  again  —  and  again  — 
so  I  '  Love  is  stronger  than  death,'  says  your 
preacher." 

" '  And  jealousy  is  as  cruel  as  the  grave,'  he  says, 
too,"  added  Nehushta,  her  eyes  flashing  fire  as  her  lips 
met  his.  "  You  must  never  make  me  jealous,  Zoro- 
aster, never,  never!  I  would  be  so  cruel  —  you  can- 
not dream  how  cruel  I  would  be  I" 

Zoroaster  laughed  under  his  silken  beard,  a  deep, 
joyous,  ringing  laugh  that  startled  the  moonlit  still- 
ness. 

"  By  Nabon  and  Bel,  there  is  small  cause  for  your 
jealousy  here,"  he  said. 

"  Swear  not  by  your  false  gods  I "  laughed  Nehushta. 
"You  know  not  how  little  it  would  need  to  rouse  me." 

"  I  will  not  give  you  that  little,"  answered  the 
Persian.  "  And  as  for  the  false  gods,  they  are  well 
enough  for  a  man  to  swear  by  in  these  days.  But  I 
will  swear  by  any  one  you  command  me,  or  by  any- 
thing ! " 

"  Swear  not,  or  you  will  say  again  that  the  oath  has 
need  of  sealing,"  replied  Nehushta,  drawing  her  mantle 
around  her,  so  as  to  cover  half  her  face.  "  Tell  me, 
when  are  we  to  begin  our  journey  ?  We  have  talked 
much  and  have  said  little,  as  it  ever  is.  Shall  we  go 
at  once,  or  are  we  to  wait  for  another  order?  Is 
Darius  safe  upon  the  throne  ?  Who  is  to  be  chiefest 
at  the  court  —  one  of  the  seven  princes,  I  suppose,  or 
his  old  father  ?  Come,  do  you  know  anything  of  all 
these  changes  ?  Why  have  you  never  told  me  what 
was  going  to  happen  —  you  who  are  high  in  power 
and  know  everything  ?  " 


30  ZOROASTER. 

"Your  questions  flock  upon  me  like  doves  to  a 
maiden  who  feeds  them  from  her  hand,"  said  Zoroaster, 
with  a  smile,  "  and  I  know  not  which  shall  be  fed  first. 
As  for  the  king,  I  know  that  he  will  be  great,  and  will 
hold  securely  the  throne,  for  he  has  already  the  love 
of  the  people  from  the  Western  sea  to  the  wild  Eastern 
mountains.  But  it  seemed  as  though  the  seven  princes 
would  have  divided  the  empire  amongst  them,  until 
this  news  came.  I  think  he  will  more  likely  take  one 
of  your  people  for  his  close  friend  than  trust  to  the 
princes.  As  for  our  journey,  we  must  depart  betimes, 
or  the  king  will  have  gone  before  us  from  Shushan  to 
Stakhar  in  the  south,  where  they  say  he  will  build 
himself  a  royal  dwelling  and  stay  in  the  coming  winter 
time.  Prepare  yourself  for  the  journey,  therefore,  my 
princess,  lest  anything  be  forgotten  and  you  should  be 
deprived  of  what  you  need  for  any  time." 

"  I  am  never  deprived  of  what  I  need,"  said  Ne- 
hushta,  half  in  pride  and  half  in  jest. 

"  Nor  I,  when  I  am  with  my  beloved !  "  answered 
the  Persian.  "And  now  the  moon  is  high,  and  I 
must  bear  this  news  to  our  master,  the  prophet." 

"  So  soon  ?  "  said  Nehushta  reproachfully,  and  she 
turned  her  head  away. 

"  I  would  there  were  no  partings,  my  beloved,  even 
for  the  space  of  an  hour,"  answered  Zoroaster,  tenderly 
drawing  her  to  him;  but  she  resisted  a  little  and 
would  not  look  at  him. 

"  Farewell  now  —  good-night,  my  princess  —  light 
of  my  soul ;  "  he  kissed  her  dark  cheek  passionatelyo 
"  Good-night ! " 

He  trod  swiftly  across  the  terrace. 


ZOKOASTER.  31 

"  Zoroaster  !  prince  !  "  Nehushta  called  aloud,  but 
without  turning.  He  came  back.  She  threw  her 
arms  about  his  neck  and  kissed  him  almost  desper- 
ately.    Then  she  pushed  him  gently  away  from  her. 

"  Go  —  my  love  —  only  that,"  she  murmured,  and 
he  left  her  standing  by  the  marble  balustrade,  while 
the  yellow  moon  turned  slowly  pale  as  she  rose  in 
the  heavens,  and  the  song  of  the  lorn  nightingale  re- 
echoed in  the  still  night,  from  the  gardens  to  the 
towers,  in  long  sweet  cries  of  burning  love,  and  soft, 
complaining,  silvery  notes   of   mingled  sorrow  and 

Joy- 


32  ZOROASTER. 


CHAPTER  III. 

In  the  prophet's  chamber,  also,  the  moonbeams  fell 
upon  the  marble  floor ;  but  a  seven-beaked  Hebrew 
lamp  of  bronze  shed  a  warmer  light  around,  soft  and 
mellow,  yet  strong  enough  to  illuminate  the  scroll 
that  lay  open  upon  the  old  man's  knee.  His  brows 
were  knit  together,  and  the  furrows  on  his  face  were 
shaded  deeply  by  the  high  light,  as  he  sat  propped 
among  many  cushions  and  wrapped  in  his  ample 
purple  cloak  that  was  thickly  lined  with  fur  and 
drawn  together  over  his  snowy  beard ;  for  the  years 
of  his  life  were  nearly  accomplished,  and  the  warmth 
of  his  body  was  even  then  leaving  him. 

Zoroaster  raised  the  heavy  curtain  of  carpet  that 
hung  before  the  low  square  door,  and  came  and  bowed 
himself  before  the  teacher  of  his  youth  and  the  friend 
of  his  manhood.  The  prophet  looked  up  keenly,  and 
something  like  a  smile  crossed  his  stern  features  as 
his  eyes  rested  on  the  young  officer  in  his  magnificent 
armour ;  Zoroaster  held  his  helmet  in  his  hand,  and 
his  fair  hair  fell  like  a  glory  to  his  shoulders,  mingling 
with  his  silky  beard  upon  his  breastplate.  His  dark 
blue  eyes  met  his  master's  fearlessly. 

"  Hail !  and  live  for  ever,  chosen  of  the  Lord !  "  he 
said  in  salutation.  ''  I  bring  tidings  of  great  moment 
and  importance.  If  it  be  thy  pleasure,  I  will  speak  ; 
but  if  not,  I  will  come  at  another  season." 


ZOROASTER.  33 

"  Sit  upon  my  right  hand,  Zoroaster,  and  tell  me  all 
that  thou  hast  to  tell.  Art  thou  not  my  beloved  son, 
whom  the  Lord  hath  given  me  to  comfort  mine  old 
age?" 

"  I  am  thy  servant  and  the  servant  of  thine  house, 
my  father,"  answered  Zoroaster,  seating  himself  upon 
a  carved  chair  at  a  little  distance  from  the  prophet. 

"  Speak,  my  son,  —  what  tidings  hast  thou  ?  " 

"  There  is  a  messenger  come  in  haste  from  Shushan, 
bearing  tidings  and  letters.  The  seven  princes  have 
slain  Smerdis  in  his  house,  and  have  chosen  Darius 
the  son  of  Gushtasp  to  be  king." 

"Praise  be  to  the  Lord  who  hath  chosen  a  just 
man  !  "  exclaimed  the  prophet  devoutly.  "  So  may 
good  come  out  of  evil,  and  salvation  by  the  shedding 
of  blood." 

"  Even  so,  my  master,"  answered  Zoroaster.  "  It 
is  also  written  that  Darius,  may  he  live  for  ever,  will 
establish  himself  very  surely  upon  the  throne  of  the 
Medes  and  Persians.  There  are  letters  by  the  hand 
of  the  same  messenger,  sealed  with  the  signet  of  the 
Great  King,  wherein  I  am  bidden  to  bring  the  kins- 
folk of  Jehoiakim,  who  was  king  over  Judah,  to  Shu- 
shan without  delay,  that  the  Great  King  may  do  them 
honour  as  is  meet  and  right;  but  what  that  honour 
may  be  that  he  would  do  to  them,  I  know  not." 

"What  is  this  that  thou  sayest?"  asked  Daniel, 
starting  forward  from  his  reclining  position,  and  fix- 
ing his  dark  eyes  on  Zoroaster.  "  Will  the  king  take 
away  from  me  the  children  of  my  old  age  ?  Art  not 
thou  as  my  son  ?  And  is  not  Nehushta  as  my  daughter  ? 
As  for  the  rest,  I  care  not  if  they  go.     But  Nehushta 


34  ZOROASTER. 

is  as  the  apple  of  my  eye !  She  is  as  a  fair  flower 
growing  in  the  desert  of  my  years !  What  is  this 
that  the  king  hath  done  to  me?  Whither  will  he 
take  her  from  me  ?  " 

"  Let  not  my  lord  be  troubled,"  said  Zoroaster,  ear- 
nestly, for  he  was  moved  by  the  sudden  grief  of  the 
prophet.  "  Let  not  my  lord  be  troubled.  It  is  but 
for  a  space,  for  a  few  weeks ;  and  thy  kinsfolk  will  be 
with  thee  again,  and  I  also." 

"  A  space,  a  few  weeks  !  What  is  a  space  to  thee, 
child,  or  a  week  that  thou  shouldest  regard  it  ?  But 
I  am  old  and  full  of  years.  It  may  be,  if  now  thou 
takest  my  daughter  Nehushta  from  me,  that  I  shall  see 
her  face  no  more,  neither  thine,  before  I  go  hence  and 
return  not.  Go  to !  Thou  art  young,  but  I  am  now 
nigh  unto  a  hundred  years  old." 

"  Nevertheless,  if  it  be  the  will  of  the  Great  King, 
I  must  accomplish  this  thing,"  answered  the  young 
man.  "  But  I  will  swear  by  thy  head  and  by  mine 
that  there  shall  no  harm  happen  to  the  young  princess ; 
and  if  anything  happen  to  her  that  is  evil,  may  the 
Lord  do  so  to  me  and  more  also.  Behold,  I  have 
sworn ;  let  not  my  lord  be  troubled  any  more." 

But  the  prophet  bowed  his  head  and  covered  his 
face  with  his  hands.  Aged  and  childless,  Zoroaster 
and  Nehushta  were  to  him  children,  and  he  loved  them 
with  his  whole  soul.  Moreover,  he  knew  the  Persian 
Court,  and  he  knew  that  if  once  they  were  taken  into 
the  whirl  and  eddy  of  its  intrigue  and  stirring  life, 
they  would  not  return  to  Ecbatana ;  or  returning,  they 
would  be  changed  and  seem  no  more  the  same.  He 
was  bitterly  grieved  and  hurt  at  the  thought  of  such 


ZOROASTER.  35 

a  separation,  and  in  the  grand  simplicity  of  his  great- 
ness he  felt  no  shame  at  shedding  tears  for  them. 
Zoroaster  himself,  in  the  pride  of  his  brilliant  youth, 
was  overcome  with  pain  at  the  thought  of  quitting 
the  sage  who  had  been  a  father  to  liim  for  thirty  years. 
He  had  never  been  separated  from  Daniel  save  for  a 
few  months  at  a  time  during  the  wars  of  Cambyses ; 
at  six-and-twenty  years  of  age  he  had  been  appointed 
to  the  high  position  of  captain  of  the  fortress  of  Ecbat- 
ana;  since  which  time  he  had  enjoyed  the  closest 
intercourse  with  the  prophet,  his  master. 

Zoroaster  was  a  soldier  by  force  of  circumstances, 
and  he  wore  his  gorgeous  arms  with  matchless  grace, 
but  there  were  two  things  that,  with  him,  went  before 
his  military  profession,  and  completely  eclipsed  it  in 
importance. 

From  his  earliest  youth  he  had  been  the  pupil  of 
Daniel,  who  had  inspired  him  with  his  own  love  of 
the  mystic  lore  to  which  the  prophet  owed  so  much 
of  his  singular  success  in  the  service  of  the  Assyrian 
and  Persian  monarchs.  The  boy's  poetical  mind, 
strengthened  and  developed  by  the  study  of  the  art 
of  reasoning,  and  of  the  profound  mathematical 
knowledge  of  the  Chaldean  astronomers,  easily 
grasped  the  highest  subjects,  and  showed  from  the 
first  a  capacity  and  lucidity  that  delighted  his  mas- 
ter. To  attain  by  a  life  of  rigid  ascetic  practice  to 
the  intuitive  comprehension  of  knowledge,  to  the 
understanding  of  natural  laws  not  discernible  to  the 
senses  alone,  and  to  the  merging  of  the  soul  and 
higher  intelligence  in  the  one  universal  and  divine 
essence,  were  the  objects  Daniel  proposed  to  his  will- 

Yol.  6  M 


36  ZOKOASTER. 

ing  pupil.  The  noble  boy,  by  his  very  nature, 
scorned  and  despised  the  pleasures  of  sense,  and 
yearned  ever  for  the  realising  of  an  ideal  Avherein  a 
sublime  wisdom  of  transcendent  things  should  direct 
a  sublime  courage  in  things  earthly  to  the  doing  of 
great  deeds. 

Year  after  year  the  young  Persian  grew  up  in  the 
splendid  surroundings  of  the  court,  distinguished  be- 
fore all  those  of  his  age  for  his  courage  and  fearless 
honesty,  for  his  marvellous  beauty,  and  for  his  pro- 
found understanding  of  all  subjects,  great  and  small, 
that  came  within  the  sphere  of  his  activity ;  most  of 
all  remarkable,  perhaps,  for  the  fact  that  he  cared 
nothing  for  the  society  of  women,  and  had  never 
been  known  to  love  any  woman.  He  was  a  favourite 
with  Cyrus ;  and  even  Cambyses,  steeped  in  degrad- 
ing vice,  and  surrounded  by  flatterers,  panderers,  and 
priests  of  the  Magians,  from  the  time  when  he  began 
to  suspect  his  brother,  the  real  Smerdis,  of  designs 
upon  the  throne,  recognised  the  exceptional  merits 
and  gifts  of  the  young  noble,  and  promoted  him  to 
his  position  in  Ecbatana,  at  the  time  when  he  per- 
mitted Daniel  to  build  his  great  tower  in  that  ancient 
fortress.  The  dissipated  king  may  have  understood 
that  the  presence  of  such  men  as  Daniel  and  Zoroaster 
would  be  of  greater  advantage  in  an  outlying  district 
where  justice  and  moderation  would  have  a  good 
effect  upon  the  population,  than  in  his  immediate 
neighbourhood,  where  the  purity  and  temperance  of 
their  lives  contrasted  too  strongly  with  the  degrading 
spectacle  his  own  vices  afforded  to  the  court. 

Here,  in  the  splendid  retirement  of  a  royal  palace. 


ZOROASTER.  37 

the  prophet  had  given  himself  up  completely  to  the 
contemplation  of  those  subjects  which,  through  all 
his  life,  had  engrossed  his  leisure  time,  and  of  which 
the  knowledge  had  so  directly  contributed  to  his  sin- 
gular career ;  and  in  the  many  hours  of  leisure  which 
Zoroaster's  position  allowed  him,  Daniel  sought  to 
bring  the  intelligence  of  the  soldier-philosopher  to 
the  perfection  of  its  final  development.  Living;  as 
he  did,  entirely  in  his  tower,  save  when,  at  rare  inter- 
vals, he  caused  himself  to  be  carried  down  to  the  gar- 
dens, the  prophet  knew  little  of  what  went  on  in  the 
palace  below,  so  that  he  sometimes  marvelled  that  his 
pupil's  attention  wandered,  and  that  his  language  be- 
trayed occasionally  a  keener  interest  in  his  future, 
and  in  the  possible  vicissitudes  of  his  military  life, 
than  he  had  formerly  been  wont  to  show. 

For  a  new  element  had  entered  into  the  current  of 
Zoroaster's  thoughts.  For  years  he  had  seen  the 
lovely  child  Nehushta  growing  up.  As  a  boy  of 
twenty  summers  he  had  rocked  her  on  his  knee; 
later  he  had  taught  her  and  played  with  her,  and 
seen  the  little  child  turn  to  the  slender  girl,  haughty 
and  royal  in  her  young  ways,  and  dominating  her 
playfellows  as  a  little  lioness  might  rule  a  herd  of 
tamer  creatures ;  and  at  last  her  sixteenth  year  had 
brought  with  it  the  bloom  of  early  southern  woman- 
hood, and  Zoroaster,  laughing  with  her  among  the 
roses  in  the  gardens,  on  a  summer's  day,  had  felt  his 
heart  leap  and  sink  within  him,  and  his  own  fair 
cheek  grow  hot  and  cold  for  the  ring  of  her  voice  and 
the  touch  of  her  soft  hand. 

He  who  knew  so  much  of  mankind,  who  had  lived 


38  ZOROASTER. 

SO  long  at  the  court,  and  had  coldly  studied  every 
stage  of  human  nature,  where  unbridled  human  nature 
ever  ruled  the  hour,  knew  what  he  felt ;  and  it  was 
as  though  he  had  received  a  sharp  wound  that  thrust 
him  through,  body  and  heart  and  soul,  and  cleft  his 
cold  pride  in  two.  For  days  he  wandered  beneath  the 
pines  and  the  rhododendron  trees  alone,  lamenting  for 
the  fabric  of  mighty  philosophy  he  had  built  himself, 
in  which  no  woman  was  ever  to  set  foot ;  and  which  a 
woman's  hand,  a  woman's  eyes  had  shattered  in  a  day. 
It  seemed  as  if  his  whole  life  were  blasted  and  de- 
stroyed, so  that  he  was  become  even  as  other  men,  to 
suffer  love  and  eat  his  heart  out  for  a  girl's  fair  word. 
He  would  have  escaped  from  meeting  the  dark  young 
princess  again ;  but  one  evening,  as  he  stood  alone 
upon  the  terrace  of  the  gardens,  sorrowing  for  the 
change  in  himself,  she  found  him,  and  there  they 
looked  into  each  other's  eyes  and  saw  a  new  light,  and 
loved  each  other  fiercely  from  that  day,  as  only  the 
untainted  children  of  godlike  races  could  love.  But 
neither  of  them  dared  to  tell  the  prophet,  nor  to  let 
those  of  the  palace  know  that  they  had  pledged  each 
other  their  troth,  down  there  upon  the  moonlit  ter- 
race, behind  the  myrtles.  Instinctively  they  dreaded 
lest  the  knowledge  of  their  love  should  raise  a  storm 
of  anger  in  Daniel's  breast  at  the  idea  that  his  chosen 
philosopher  should  abandon  the  paths  of  mystic  learn- 
ing and  reduce  himself  to  the  level  of  common  man- 
kind by  marriage  ;  and  Zoroaster  guessed  how  painful 
to  the  true  Israelite  would  be  the  thought  that  a 
daughter  and  a  princess  of  Judah  should  be  united 
in  wedlock  with  one  who,  however  noble  and  true  and 


ZOROASTER.  39 

wise,  was,  after  all,  a  stranger  and  an  unbeliever.  For 
Zoroaster,  while  devoting  himself  heart  and  soul  to 
the  study  of  Daniel's  philosophy,  and  of  the  wisdom 
the  latter  had  acquired  from  the  Chaldeans,  had  never- 
theless firmly  maintained  his  independence  of  thought. 
He  was  not  an  Israelite,  nor  would  he  ever  wish  to 
become  one ;  but  he  was  not  an  idolater  nor  a  Magian, 
nor  a  follower  of  Gomata,  the  half-Indian  Brahmin, 
who  had  endeavoured  to  pass  himself  off  as  Smerdis 
the  son  of  Cyrus. 

Either  of  these  causes  alone  would  have  sufficed  to 
raise  a  serious  obstacle  to  the  marriage.  Together 
they  seemed  insurmountable.  During  the  disorder 
and  anarchy  that  prevailed  in  the  seven  months  of 
the  reign  of  Pseudo-Smerdis,  it  would  have  been  mad- 
ness to  have  married,  trusting  to  the  favour  of  the 
wretched  semi-monarch  for  fortune  and  advancement ; 
nor  could  Nehushta  have  married  and  maintained  her 
state  as  a  princess  of  Judah  without  the  consent  of 
Daniel,  who  was  her  guardian,  and  whose  influence 
was  paramount  in  Media,  and  very  great  even  at  court. 
Zoroaster  was  therefore  driven  to  conceal  his  passion 
as  best  he  could,  trusting  to  the  turn  of  future  events 
for  the  accomplishment  of  his  dearest  wish.  In  the 
meanwhile,  he  and  the  princess  met  daily  in  public, 
and  Zoroaster's  position  as  captain  of  the  fortress 
gave  him  numerous  opportunities  of  meeting  Nehushta 
in  the  solitude  of  the  gardens,  which  were  jealously 
guarded  and  set  apart  exclusively  for  the  use  of 
Nehushta  and  her  household. 

But  now  that  the  moment  had  come  when  it  seemed 
as  though  a  change  were  to  take  place  in  the  destinies 


40  ZOROASTER. 

of  the  lovers,  tliey  felt  constrained.     Beyond  a  few 
simple  questions  and  answers,  they  had  not  discussed 
the  matter  of  the  journey  when  they  were  together  ; 
for  Nehushta  was  so  much  surprised  and  delighted  at 
the  idea  of  again  seeing  the  magnificence  of  the  court 
at  Shushan,  which  she  so  well  remembered  from  the 
period  of  her  childhood,  that  she  feared  to  let  Zo- 
roaster see  how  glad   she  was   to   leave   Ecbatana, 
which,  but  for  him,  would  have  been  to  her  little 
better  than  a  prison.     He,  on  the  contrary,  thinking 
that  he  foresaw  an  immediate  removal  of  all  obstacle 
and  delay  through  the  favor  of  Darius,  was,  never- 
theless, too  gentle  and  delicate  of  tact  to  bring  sud- 
denly before  Nehushta's  mind  the  prospect  of  marry- 
ing which   presented   itself   so  vividly  to   his   own 
fancy.     But  he  felt  no  less  disturbed  in  his  heart 
when  face  to  face  with  the  old  prophet's  sorrow  at 
losing  his  foster-daughter ;  and,  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life,  he  felt  guilty  when  he  reflected  that  Daniel 
was  grieved  at  his  own  departure  almost  as  deeply  as 
on  account  of  Nehushta.     He  experienced  what  is  so 
common  with  persons  of  cold  and  even  temperament 
when  brought  into  close  relation  with  more  expansive 
and  affectionate  natures  ;  he  was  overcome  with  the 
sense  that  his  old  master  gave  him  more  love  and 
more  thought  than  he  could  possibly  give  in  return, 
and  that  he  was  therefore  ungrateful ;  and  the  knowl- 
edge he  alone  possessed,  that  he  surely  intended  to 
marry  the  princess  in  spite  of  the  prophet,  and  by 
the  help  of  the  king,  added  painfully  to  his  mental 
suffering. 

The  silence  lasted  some  minutes,  till  the  old  man 


ZOROASTER.  41 

suddenly  lifted  his  head  and  leaned  back  among  his 
cushions,  gazing  at  his  companion's  face. 

"  Hast  thou  no  sorrow,  nor  any  regret  ?  "  he  asked 
sadly. 

"  Nay,  my  lord  doth  me  injustice,"  answered  Zo- 
roaster, his  brows  contracting  in  his  perplexity.  "  I 
should  be  ungrateful  if  I  repented  not  leaving  thee 
even  for  the  space  of  a  day.  But  let  my  lord  be 
comforted ;  this  parting  is  not  for  long,  and  before 
the  flocks  come  down  from  Zagros  to  take  shelter 
from  the  winter,  we  will  be  with  thee." 

''  Swear  to  me,  then,  that  thou  wilt  return  before 
the  winter,"  insisted  the  prophet  half-scornfully. 

"  I  cannot  swear,"  answered  Zoroaster.  "  Behold, 
I^  am  in  the  hands  of  the  Great  King.  I  cannot 
swear." 

"  Say  rather  that  thou  art  in  the  hand  of  the  Lord, 
and  that  therefore  thou  canst  not  swear.  For  I  say 
thou  wilt  not  return,  and  I  shall  see  thy  face  no 
more.  The  winter  cometh,  and  the  birds  of  the  air 
fly  towards  the  south,  and  I  am  alone  in  the  land  of 
snow  and  frost ;  and  the  spring  cometh  also,  and  I 
am  yet  alone,  and  my  time  is  at  hand;  for  thou 
comest  not  any  more,  neither  my  daughter  Nehushta, 
neither  any  of  my  kinsfolk.  And  behold,  I  go  down 
to  the  grave  alone." 

The  yellow  light  of  the  hanging  lamp  above  shone 
upon  the  old  man's  eyes,  and  there  was  a  dull  fbe  in 
them.  His  face  was  drawn  and  haggard,  and  every 
line  and  furrow  traced  by  the  struggles  of  his  hundred 
years  stood  out  dark  and  rugged  and  tremendous  in 
power.      Zoroaster  shuddered  as  he  looked  on  him. 


42  ZOROASTER. 

and,  though  he  would  have  spoken,  he  was  awed  to 
silence. 

"  Go  forth,  my  son,"  cried  the  prophet  in  deep 
tones,  and  as  he  spoke  he  slowly  raised  his  body  till 
he  sat  rigidly  erect,  and  his  wan  and  ancient  fingers 
were  stretched  out  towards  the  young  soldier.  "  Go 
forth  and  do  thy  part,  for  thou  art  in  the  hand  of  the 
Lord,  and  some  things  that  thou  wilt  do  shall  be  good, 
and  some  things  evil.  For  thou  hast  departed  from 
the  path  of  crystal  that  leadeth  among  the  stars,  and 
thou  hast  fallen  away  from  the  ladder  whereby  the 
angels  ascend  and  descend  upon  the  earth,  and  thou 
art  gone  after  the  love  of  a  woman  which  endureth 
not.  And  for  a  season  thou  shalt  be  led  astray,  and 
for  a  time  thou  shalt  suffer  great  things  ;  and  after  a 
time  thou  shalt  return  into  the  way ;  and  again  a  time, 
and  thou  shalt  perish  in  thine  own  imaginations, 
because  thou  hast  not  known  the  darkness  from  the 
light,  nor  the  good  from  the  evil.  By  a  woman  shalt 
thou  go  astray,  and  from  a  woman  shalt  thou  return ; 
yet  thou  shalt  perish.  But  because  there  is  some 
good  in  thee,  it  shall  endure,  and  thy  name  also,  for 
generations ;  and  though  the  evil  that  besetteth  thee 
shall  undo  thee,  yet  at  the  last  thy  soul  shall  live." 

Zoroaster  buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  overcome  by 
the  majesty  of  the  mighty  prophet  and  by  the  terror 
of  his  words. 

"  Rise  and  go  forth,  for  the  hand  of  the  Lord  is 
upon  thee,  and  no  man  can  hinder  that  thou  doest. 
Thou  shalt  look  upon  the  sun  and  shalt  delight  in 
him ;  and  again  thou  shalt  look  and  the  light  of  the 
air  shall  be  as  darkness.     Thou  shalt  boast  in  thy 


ZOROASTER.  43 

strength  and  in  thine  armour  that  there  is  none  like 
thee,  and  again  thou  shalt  cast  thy  glory  from  thee 
and  say,  '  This  also  is  vanity.'  The  king  delighteth 
in  thee,  and  thou  shalt  stand  before  the  queen  in 
armour  of  gold  and  in  fine  raiment ;  and  the  end  is 
near,  for  the  hand  of  the  Lord  is  upon  thee.  If  the 
Lord  will  work  great  things  by  thee,  what  is  that  to 
me  ?  Go  forth  quickly,  and  rest  not  by  the  way,  lest 
the  woman  tempt  thee  and  thou  perish.  And  as  for  me,- 
I  go  also  —not  with  thee,  but  before  thee.  See  that 
thou  follow  after  —  for  I  go.  Yea,  I  see  even  now 
light  in  the  darkness  of  the  world,  and  the  glory  of 
the  triumph  of  heaven  is  over  me,  triumphing  greatly 
in  the  majesty  of  light." 

Zoroaster  looked  up  and  fell  to  the  ground  upon 
his  knees  in  wonder  and  amazement  at  Daniel's  feet, 
while  his  heavy  helmet  rolled  clanging  on  the  marble 
pavement.  The  prophet  stood  erect  as  a  giant  oak, 
stretching  his  withered  hands  to  heaven,  all  the  mass 
of  his  snow-white  hair  and  beard  falling  about  him 
to  his  waist.  His  face  was  illuminated  as  from  within 
with  a  strange  light,  and  his  dark  eyes  turned  upward 
seemed  to  receive  and  absorb  the  brightness  of  an  open 
heaven.  His  voice  rang  again  with  the  strength  of 
youth,  and  his  whole  figure  was  clothed  as  with  the 
majesty  of  another  world.     Again  he  spoke  : 

"  Behold,  the  voice  of  the  ages  is  in  me,  and  the 
Lord  my  God  hath  taken  me  up.  My  days  are 
ended;  I  am  taken  up  and  shall  no  more  be  cast 
down.  The  earth  departeth  and  the  glory  of  the 
Lord  is  come  which  hath  no  end  for  ever. 

"  The  Lord  cometh  —  He  cometh  quickly.     In  His 


44  ZOROASTER. 

right  hand  are  the  ages,  and  the  days  and  the  nights 
are  under  His  feet.  The  ranks  of  the  Cherubim  are 
beside  Him,  and  the  armies  of  the  Seraphim  are 
dreadfuL  The  stars  of  heaven  tremble,  and  the 
voice  of  their  moaning  is  as  the  voice  of  the  utter- 
most fear.  The  arch  of  the  outer  firmament  is  shiv- 
ered like  a  broken  bow,  and  the  curtain  of  the  sky  is 
rent  in  pieces  as  a  veil  in  the  tempest.  The  sun  and 
the  moon  shriek  aloud,  and  the  sea  crieth  horribly 
before  the  Lord. 

"  The  nations  are  extinct  as  the  ashes  of  a  fire  that 
is  gone  out,  and  the  princes  of  the  earth  are  no  more. 
He  hath  bruised  the  earth  in  a  mortar,  and  the  dust 
of  it  is  scattered  abroad  in  the  heavens.  The  stars  in 
their  might  hath  He  pounded  to  pieces,  and  the  foun- 
dations of  the  ages  to  fine  powder.  There  is  nothing 
of  them  left,  and  their  voices  are  dead.  There  are 
dim  shapes  in  the  horror  of  emptiness. 

"But  out  of  the  north  ariseth  a  fair  glory  with 
brightness,  and  the  breath  of  the  Lord  breatheth  life 
into  all  things.  The  beam  of  the  dawn  is  risen,  and 
there  shall  again  be  times  and  seasons,  and  the  Being 
of  the  majesty  of  God  is  made  manifest  in  form. 
From  the  dust  of  the  earth  is  the  earth  made  again, 
and  of  the  beams  of  His  glory  shall  He  make  new 
stars. 

"  Send  up  the  voices  of  praise,  O  ye  things  that 
are ;  cry  out  in  exultation  with  mighty  music ! 
Praise  the  Lord  in  whom  is  Life,  and  in  whom  all 
things  have  Being !  Praise  Him  and  glorify  Him 
that  is  risen  with  the  wings  of  the  morning  of 
heaven ;  in  whose  breath  the  stars  breathe,  in  whose 


ZOROASTER.  45 

brightness  also  the  firmament  is  lightened!  Praise 
Him  who  maketh  the  wheels  of  the  spheres  to  run 
their  courses ;  who  maketh  the  flowers  to  bloom  in 
the  spring,  and  the  little  flowers  of  the  field  to  give 
forth  their  sweetness  !  Praise  Him,  winter  and  sum- 
mer ;  praise  Him,  cold  and  heat !  Praise  Him,  stars 
of  heaven ;  praise  Him,  men  and  women  in  the  earth ! 
Praise  and  glory  and  honour  be  unto  the  Most  High 
Jehovah,  who  sitteth  upon  the  Throne  for  ever,  and 
ever,  and  ever  ..." 

The  prophet's  voice  rang  out  with  tremendous 
force  and  majestic  clearness  as  he  uttered  the  last 
words.  Throwing  up  his  arms  to  their  height,  he 
stood  one  moment  longer,  immovable,  his  face  radi- 
antly illuminated  with  an  unearthly  glory.  One 
instant  he  stood  there,  and  then  fell  back,  straight 
and  rigid,  to  his  length  upon  the  cushioned  floor  — 
dead! 

Zoroaster  started  to  his  feet  in  amazement  and 
horror,  and  stood  staring  at  the  body  of  his  master 
and  friend  lying  stiff  and  stark  beneath  the  yellow 
light  of  the  hanging  lamp.  Then  suddenly  he  sprang 
forward  and  kneeled  again  beside  the  pale  noble  head 
that  looked  so  grand  in  death.  He  took  one  of  the 
hands  and  chafed  it,  he  listened  for  the  beating  of 
the  heart  that  beat  no  more,  and  sought  for  the  stir- 
ring of  the  least  faint  breath  of  lingering  life.  But 
he  sought  in  vain ;  and  there,  in  the  upper  chamber 
of  the  tower,  the  young  warrior  fell  upon  his  face 
and  wept  alone  by  the  side  of  the  mighty  dead. 


46  ZOROASTER. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Thus  died  Daniel,  and  for  seven  days  the  women 
sat  apart  upon  the  ground  and  mourned  him,  while 
the  men  embalmed  his  body  and  made  it  ready  for 
burial.  They  wrapped  him  in  much  fine  linen  and 
poured  out  very  precious  spices  and  ointments  from 
the  store-houses  of  the  palaces.  Round  about  his 
body  they  burned  frankincense  and  myrrh  and  amber, 
and  the  gums  of  the  Indian  benzoe  and  of  the  Per- 
sian fir,  and  great  candles  of  pure  wax ;  for  all  the 
seven  days  the  mourners  from  the  city  made  a  great 
mourning,  ceasing  not  to  sing  the  praises  of  the 
prophet  and  to  cry  aloud  by  day  and  night  that  the 
best  and  the  worthiest  and  the  greatest  of  all  men 
was  dead. 

Thus  they  watched  and  mourned  and  sang  his 
great  deeds.  And  in  the  lower  chamber  of  the  tower 
the  women  sat  upon  the  floor,  with  Nehushta  in  their 
midst,  and  sorrowed  greatly,  fasting  and  mourning  in 
raiment  of  sackcloth,  and  strewing  ashes  upon  the 
floor  and  upon  themselves.  Nehushta's  face  grew 
thin  and  very  pale  and  her  lips  white  in  that  time, 
and  she  let  her  heavy  hair  hang  neglected  about  her. 
Many  of  the  men  shaved  their  heads  and  went  bare- 
footed, and  the  fortress  and  the  palaces  were  filled 
with  the  sound  of  weeping  and  grief.  The  Hebrews 
who  were  there  mourned  their  chief,  and  the   two 


ZOKOASTER.  47 

Levites  sat  beside  the  dead  man  and  read  long  chap- 
ters from  their  scriptures.  The  Medes  mourned  their 
great  and  just  governor,  under  the  Assyrian  name  of 
Belteshazzar,  given  first  to  Daniel  by  Nebuchadnezzar; 
and  from  all  the  town  the  noise  of  their  weeping  and 
mourning  came  up,  like  the  mighty  groan  of  a  nation, 
to  the  ears  of  those  that  dwelt  in  the  fortress  and  the 
palace. 

On  the  eighth  day  they  buried  him,  with  pomp  and 
state,  in  a  tomb  in  the  garden  which  they  had  built 
during  the  week  of  mourning.  The  two  Levites  and 
a  young  Hebrew  and  Zoroaster  himself,  clad  in  sack- 
cloth and  barefooted,  raised  up  the  prophet's  body 
upon  a  bier  and  bore  him  upon  their  shoulders  down 
the  broad  staircase  of  the  tower  and  out  into  the  gar- 
den to  his  tomb.  The  mourners  went  before,  many 
hundreds  of  Median  women  with  dishevelled  hair, 
rending  their  dresses  of  sackcloth  and  scattering  ashes 
upon  their  path  and  upon  their  heads,  crying  aloud  in 
wild  voices  of  grief  and  piercing  the  air  with  their 
screams,  till  they  came  to  the  tomb  and  stood  round 
about  it  while  the  four  men  laid  their  master  in  his 
great  coffin  of  black  marble  beneath  the  pines  and  the 
rhododendrons.  And  the  pipers  followed  after,  mak- 
ing shrill  and  dreadful  music  that  sounded  as  though 
some  supernatural  beings  added  their  voices  to  the 
universal  wail  of  woe.  And  on  either  side  of  the  body 
walked  the  women,  the  prophet's  kinsfolk;  but  Ne- 
hushta  walked  by  Zoroaster,  and  ever  and  anon,  as 
the  funeral  procession  wound  through  the  myrtle 
walks  of  the  deep  gardens,  her  dark  and  heavy  eyes 
stole  a  glance  sidelong  at  her  strong  fair  lover.     His 


48  ZOROASTER. 

face  was  white  as  death  and  set  sternly  before  him, 
and  his  dishevelled  hair  and  golden  beard  flowed 
wildly  over  the  rough  coarseness  of  his  long  sackcloth 
garments.  But  his  step  never  faltered,  though  he 
walked  barefooted  upon  the  hard  gravel,  and  from 
the  upper  chamber  of  the  tower  whence  they  bore  the 
corpse  to  the  very  moment  when  they  laid  it  in  the 
tomb,  his  face  never  changed,  neither  looked  he  to 
the  right  nor  to  the  left.  And  then,  at  last,  when 
they  had  lowered  their  beloved  master  with  linen 
bands  to  his  last  resting-place,  and  the  women  came 
near  with  boxes  of  nard  and  ambergris  and  precious 
ointments,  Zoroaster  looked  long  and  fixedly  at  the 
swathed  head,  and  the  tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks 
and  dropped  upon  his  beard  and  upon  the  marble  of 
the  coffin ;  till  at  last  he  turned  in  silence,  and  went 
away  through  the  multitude  that  parted  before  him, 
as  pale  as  the  dead  and  answering  no  man's  greeting, 
nor  even  glancing  at  Nehushta  who  had  stood  at  his 
elbow.  And  he  went  away  and  hid  himself  for  the 
rest  of  that  day. 

But  in  the  evening,  when  the  sun  was  gone  down, 
he  came  and  stood  upon  the  terrace  in  the  darkness, 
for  there  was  no  moon.  He  wore  again  his  arms,  and 
his  purple  cloak  was  about  him,  for  he  had  his  duty 
to  perform  in  visiting  the  fortress.  The  starlight 
glimmered  faintly  on  his  polished  helmet  and  duskily 
made  visible  his  marble  features  and  his  beard.  He 
stood  with  his  back  to  the  pillars  of  the  balustrade, 
looking  towards  the  myrtles  of  the  garden,  for  he  knew 
that  Nehushta  would  come  to  the  wonted  tryst.  He 
waited  long,  but  at  last  he  heard  a  step  upon  the 


ZOROASTER.  49 

gravel  path  and  the  rustle  of  the  myrtles,  and  pres- 
ently in  the  faint  light  he  could  see  the  white  skirt 
of  her  garment  beneath  the  dark  mantle  moving 
swiftly  towards  him.  He  sprang  forward  to  meet  her 
and  would  have  taken  her  in  his  arms,  but  she  put 
him  back  and  looked  away  from  him  while  she  walked 
slowly  to  the  front  of  the  terrace.  Even  in  the  gloom 
of  the  starlight  Zoroaster  could  see  that  something 
had  offended  her,  and  a  cold  weight  seemed  to  fall 
upon  his  breast  and  chilled  the  rising  words  of  loving 
greeting. 

Zoroaster  followed  her  and  laid  his  hand  upon  her 
shoulder.  Unresponsive,  she  allowed  it  to  remain 
there. 

"  My  beloved,"  he  said  at  last,  trying  in  vain  to 
look  into  her  averted  face,  "  have  you  no  word  for  me 
to-night  ?  "  Still  she  answered  nothing.  "  Has  your 
sorrow  made  you  forget  our  love?"  he  murmured 
close  to  her  ear.  She  started  back  from  him  a  little 
and  looked  at  him  >  Even  in  the  dusk  he  could  see 
her  eyes  flash  as  she  answered : 

"  Had  not  your  own  sorrow  so  utterly  got  the  mas- 
tery over  you  to-day  that  you  even  refused  to  look  at 
me  ?  "  she  asked.  "  In  all  that  long  hour  when  we 
were  so  near  together,  did  you  give  me  one  glance  ? 
You  had  forgotten  me  in  the  extremity  of  your  grief! " 
she  cried  scornfully.  "And  now  that  the  first  tor- 
rent of  your  tears  has  dwindled  to  a  little  stream,  you 
have  time  to  remember  me  I  I  thank  my  lord  for  the 
notice  he  deigns  to  give  his  handmaiden,  but  —  I  need 
it  not.     Well  —  why  are  you  here  ?  " 

Zoroaster  stood  up  to  his  height  and   folded  his 

E 


50  ZOROASTER. 

arms  deliberately,  facing  Nehushta,  and  he  spoke 
calmly,  though  there  was  in  his  voice  the  dulness  of 
a  great  and  sudden  pain.  He  knew  men  well  enough, 
but  he  knew  little  of  women. 

"  There  is  a  time  to  be  sorrowful  and  a  time  for 
joy,"  he  said.  "  There  is  a  time  for  weeping  and  a 
time  for  the  glances  of  love.  I  did  as  I  did,  because 
when  a  man  has  a  great  grief  for  one  dead  and  when 
he  desires  to  show  his  sorrow  in  doing  honour  to  one 
who  has  been  as  a  father  to  him,  it  is  not  meet  that 
other  thoughts  should  be  in  his  mind ;  not  even  those 
thoughts  which  are  most  dear  to  him  and  nearest  to 
his  heart.  Therefore  I  looked  not  at  you  when  we 
were  burying  our  master,  and  though  I  love  you  and 
in  my  heart  look  ever  on  your  face,  yet  to-day  my 
eyes  were  turned  from  you  and  I  saw  you  not. 
Wherefore  are  you  angry  with  me  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  angry,"  said  Nehushta,  "  but  think  you 
love  me  little  that  you  turn  from  me  so  easily."  She 
looked  down,  and  her  face  was  quite  hidden  in  the 
dark  shadow.  Then  Zoroaster  put  his  arm  about  her 
neck  and  drew  her  to  him,  and,  though  she  resisted  a 
little,  in  a  moment  her  head  rested  on  his  breast. 
Then  she  struggled  again. 

"  Nay,  let  me  go,  for  you  do  not  love  me ! "  she 
said,  half  in  a  whisper.     But  he  held  her  close. 

''  Nay,  but  you  shall  not  go,  for  I  do  love  you,"  he 
answered  tenderly. 

"Shall  not?"  cried  she,  turning  in  his  arms,  half 
fiercely;  then  her  voice  sank  and  thrilled  softly. 
"  Say  that  I  will  not,"  she  murmured,  and  her  arms 
went  round  him  and  pressed  him  passionately  to  her. 


ZOROASTER.  61 

"  Oh,  my  beloved,  why  do  you  ever  seem  so  cold  ?  so 
cold  —  when  I  so  love  you?" 

"  I  am  not  cold,"  he  said  fondly,  "  and  I  love  you 
beyond  all  poAver  of  words  to  tell.  Said  we  not  that 
you  had  your  way  and  I  mine  ?  Who  shall  tell  us 
which  is  the  sweeter  music  when  both  unite  in  so 
grand  a  harmony  ?  Only  doubt  not,  for  doubting  is 
as  the  drop  that  falls  from  the  eaves  upon  the  marble 
corner-stone,  and,  by  ever  falling,  wears  furrows  in 
the  stone  that  the  whole  ocean  could  not  soften." 

"  I  will  not  doubt  any  more,"  said  Nehushta  sud- 
denly, "  only  —  can  you  not  love  me  a  little  sometimes 
in  the  way  I  do  you?  It  is  so  sweet,  —  my  way  of 
loving." 

"  Indeed  I  will  try,  for  it  is  very  sweet,"  answered 
Zoroaster,  and,  bending  down,  he  kissed  her  lips. 
Far  off  from  the  tower  the  melancholy  cry  of  an  owl 
echoed  sadly  across  the  gardens,  and  a  cool  damp 
breeze  sprang  up  suddenly  from  the  east.  Nehushta 
shuddered  slightly,  and  drew  her  cloak  about  her. 

"  Let  us  walk  upon  the  terrace,"  she  said,  "  it  is 
cold  to-night  —  is  not  this  the  last  night  here?  " 

"Yes;  to-morrow  we  must  go  hence  upon  our 
journey.     This  is  the  last  night." 

Nehushta  drew  closer  to  her  lover  as  they  paced 
the  terrace  together,  and  each  wound  one  arm  about 
the  other.  For  some  minutes  they  walked  in  silence, 
each  perhaps  recalling  the  many  meetings  upon  that 
very  terrace  since  the  first  time  their  lips  met  in  love 
under  the  ivory  moonlight  of  the  month  Tammuz, 
more  than  a  year  ago.     At  last  Nehushta  spoke. 

"  Know  you  this  new  king  ?  "  she  asked.     "  I  saw 


52  ZOROASTER. 

him  but  for  a  few  moments  last  year.  He  was  a 
young  prince,  but  he  is  not  fair." 

"  A  young  prince  with  an  old  man's  head  upon 
his  shoulders,"  answered  Zoroaster.  ''He  is  a  year 
younger  than  I  —  but  I  would  not  have  his  battles  to 
fight ;  nor,  if  I  had,  would  I  have  taken  Atossa  to  be 
my  wife." 

"  Atossa  ?  "  repeated  Nehushta. 

"Yes.  The  king  has  already  married  her  —  she 
was  the  wife  of  Cambyses,  and  also  of  the  false 
Smerdis,  the  Magian,  whom  Darius  has  slain." 

"Is  she  fair?  Have  I  not  seen  her?"  asked 
Nehushta  quickly. 

"  Indeed,  you  must  have  seen  her  at  the  court  in 
Shushan,  before  we  came  to  Ecbatana.  She  was  just 
married  to  Cambyses  then,  but  he  regarded  her  little, 
for  he  was  ever  oppressed  with  wine  and  feasting. 
But  you  were  a  child  then,  and  were  mostly  with  the 
women  of  your  house,  and  you  may  not  have  seen 
her." 

"  Tell  me  —  had  she  not  blue  eyes  and  yellow  hair  ? 
Had  she  not  a  cruel  face  — very  cold?" 

"Aye,  it  may  be  that  she  had  a  hard  look.  I 
remember  that  her  eyes  were  blue.  She  was  very 
unhappy ;  therefore  she  helped  the  Magian.  It  was 
not  she  that  betrayed  him." 

"You  pitied  her  even  then,  did  you  not?"  asked 
Nehushta. 

"  Yes  —  she  deserved  pity." 

"  She  will  have  her  revenge  now.  A  woman  with 
a  face  like  hers  loves  revenge." 

"Then  she  will  deserve  pity  no  longer,"  said  Zoro- 
aster, with  a  slight  laugh. 


ZOROASTER.  53 

"  I  hate  her  I  "  said  the  princess,  between  her  teeth. 

"  Hate  her  ?  How  can  you  hate  a  woman  you 
have  never  more  than  seen,  and  she  has  done  you  no 
evil  in  the  world  ?  " 

"I  am  sure  I  shall  hate  her,"  answered  Nehushta. 
"  She  is  not  at  all  beautiful  —  only  cold  and  white 
and  cruel.  How  could  the  Great  King  be  so  foolish 
as  to  marry  her?" 

"May  he  live  for  ever!  He  marries  whom  he 
pleases.  But  I  pray  you,  do  not  begin  by  hating 
the  queen  overmuch." 

"  Why  not  ?  What  have  I  to  gain  from  the  queen  ?  " 
asked  the  princess.  "  Am  I  not  of  royal  blood  as  well 
as  she  ?  " 

"  That  is  true,"  returned  Zoroaster.  "  Neverthe- 
less there  is  a  prudence  for  princesses  as  well  as  for 
other  people." 

"  I  would  not  be  afraid  of  the  Great  King  himself 
with  you  beside  me,"  said  Nehushta  proudly.  "  But 
I  will  be  prudent  to  please  you.  Only  —  I  am  sure  I 
shall  hate  her." 

Zoroaster  smiled  to  himself  in  the  dusk,  but  he 
would  not  have  had  the  princess  see  he  was  amused. 

"It  shall  be  as  you  please,"  he  said;  "we  shall 
soon  know  how  it  will  end,  for  we  must  begin  our 
journey  to-morrow." 

"  It  will  need  three  weeks,  will  it  not  ? "  asked 
Nehushta. 

"  Yes  —  it  is  at  least  one  hundred  and  fifty  far- 
sangs.  It  would  weary  you  to  travel  more  than  seven 
or  eight  farsangs  in  a  day's  journey  — indeed,  that  is 
a  long  distance  for  any  one." 


54  ZOROASTER. 

"We  shall  always  be  together,  shall  we  not?" 
asked  the  princess. 

"  I  will  ride  beside  your  litter,  my  beloved,"  said 
Zoroaster.  ''  But  it  will  be  very  tedious  for  you,  and 
you  will  often  be  tired.  The  country  is  very  wild  in 
some  parts,  and  we  must  trust  to  what  we  can  take 
with  us  for  our  comfort.  Do  not  spare  the  mules, 
therefore,  but  take  everything  you  need." 

"Besides,  we  may  not  return,"  said  Nehushta 
thoughtfully. 

Her  comx^anion  was  silent.  "Do  you  think  we 
shall  ever  come  back  ?  "  she  asked  presently. 

"  I  have  dreamed  of  coming  back,"  answered  Zoro- 
aster; "but  I  fear  it  is  to  be  even  as  you  say." 

"  Why  say  you  that  you  fear  it !  Is  it  not  better 
to  live  at  the  court  than  here  in  this  distant  fortress, 
so  shut  off  from  the  world  that  we  might  almost  as 
well  be  among  the  Scythians?  Oh,  I  long  for  the 
palace  at  Shushan !  I  am  sure  it  will  seem  tenfold 
more  beautiful  now  than  it  did  when  I  was  a  child." 

Zoroaster  sighed.  In  his  heart  he  knew  there  was 
to  be  no  returning  to  Media,  and  yet  he  had  dreamed 
of  marrying  the  princess  and  being  made  governor 
of  the  province,  and  bringing  his  wife  home  to  this 
beautiful  land  to  live  out  a  long  life  of  quiet  happi- 
ness. But  he  knew  it  was  not  to  be ;  and  though 
he  tried  hard  to  shake  off  the  impression,  he  felt  in 
his  inmost  self  that  the  words  of  the  dying  prophet 
foretold  truly  what  would  happen  to  him.  Only  he 
hoped  that  there  was  an  escape,  and  the  passion  in 
his  heart  scorned  the  idea  that  in  loving  Nehushta  he 
was  being  led  astray,  or  made  to  abandon  the  right 
path. 


ZOROASTER.  55 

The  cold  breeze  blew  steadily  from  the  east,  with  a 
chill  dampness  in  it,  sighing  wearily  among  the  trees. 
The  summer  was  not  yet  wholly  come,  and  the  after- 
breath  of  the  winter  still  made  itself  felt  from  time 
to  time.  The  lovers  parted,  taking  leave  of  the 
spot  they  loved  so  well,  —  Zoroaster  with  a  heavy 
foreboding  of  evil  to  come  ;  Nehushta  with  a  great 
longing  for  the  morrow,  a  mad  desire  to  be  on  the 
way  to  Shushan. 

Something  in  her  way  of  speaking  had  given  Zo- 
roaster a  sense  of  pain.  Her  interest  in  the  court 
and  in  the  Great  King,  the  strange  capricious  hatred 
that  seemed  already  forming  in  her  breast  against 
Atossa,  the  evident  desire  she  betrayed  to  take  part 
in  the  brilliant  life  of  the  capital,  — indeed,  her  whole 
manner  troubled  him.  It  seemed  so  unaccountable 
that  she  should  be  angry  with  him  for  his  conduct  at 
the  burial  of  the  prophet,  that  he  almost  thought  she 
had  wished  to  take  advantage  of  a  trifle  for  the  sake 
of  annoying  him.  He  felt  that  doubt  which  never 
comes  so  suddenly  and  wounds  so  keenly  as  when 
a  man  feels  the  most  certain  of  his  position  and  of 
himself. 

He  retired  to  his  apartment  in  the  palace  with  a 
burden  of  unhappiness  and  evil  presentiment  that 
was  new  to  him.  It  was  very  different  from  the 
sincere  sorrow  he  had  felt  and  still  suffered  for  the 
death  of  his  master  and  friend.  That  misfortune  had 
not  affected  him  as  regarded  Nehushta.  But  now  he 
had  been  separated  from  her  during  all  the  week  by 
the  exigencies  of  the  funeral  ceremonies,  and  he  had 
looked  forward  to  meeting  her  this  evening  as  to  a 


56  ZOROASTER. 

great  joy  after  so  much  mourning,  and  he  was  disap- 
pointed. She  had  affected  to  be  offended  with  him, 
yet  his  reason  told  him  that  he  had  acted  naturally 
and  rightly.  Could  he,  the  bearer  of  the  prophet's 
body,  the  captain  of  all  the  fortress,  the  man  of  all 
others  upon  whom  all  eyes  were  turned,  have  ex- 
changed love  glances  or  spoken  soft  words  to  the 
princess  by  his  side  at  such  a  time  ?  It  was  absurd ; 
she  had  no  right  to  expect  such  a  thing. 

However,  he  reflected  that  a  new  kind  of  life  was 
to  begin  on  the  morrow.  For  the  best  part  of  a 
month  he  would  ride  by  her  litter  all  day  long,  and 
sit  at  her  table  at  noonday  and  evening ;  he  would 
watch  over  her  and  take  care  of  her,  and  see  that  her 
slightest  wants  were  instantly  supplied ;  a  thousand 
incidents  would  occur  whereby  he  might  re-establish 
all  the  loving  intimacy  which  seemed  to  have  been  so 
unexpectedly  shaken.  And  so,  consoling  himself 
with  the  hopes  of  the  future,  and  striving  to  overlook 
the  present,  he  fell  asleep,  wearied  with  the  fatigues 
and  sorrows  of  the  day. 

But  Nehushta  lay  all  night  upon  her  silken  cush- 
ions, and  watched  the  flickering  little  lamp  and  the 
strange  shadows  it  cast  among  the  rich,  painted  carv- 
ings of  the  ceiling.  She  slept  little,  but  waking  she 
dreamed  of  the  gold  and  the  glitter  of  Shushan,  of  the 
magnificence  of  the  young  king,  and  of  the  brilliant 
hard-featured  beauty  of  Atossa,  whom  she  already 
hated  or  had  determined  to  hate.  The  king  inter- 
ested her  most.  She  tried  to  recall  his  features  and 
manner  as  he  had  appeared  when  he  tarried  one  night 
in  the  fortress  a  year  previous.     She  remembered  a 


ZOROASTER.  67 

black-browed  man  in  the  prime  of  youth,  with  heavy 
brows  and  an  eagle  nose ;  his  young  beard  growing 
black  and  square  about  his  strong  dark  features, 
which  would  have  seemed  coarse  saving  for  his  bright 
eyes  that  looked  every  man  fearlessly  in  the  face. 
A  short  man  he  seemed  in  her  memory,  square  built 
and  powerful  as  a  bloodhound,  of  quick  and  decisive 
speech,  expecting  to  be  understood  before  he  had 
half  spoken  his  thoughts;  a  man,  she  fancied,  who 
must  be  untiring  and  violent  of  temper,  inflexible 
and  brave  in  the  execution  of  his  purpose — a  strong 
contrast  outwardly  to  her  tall  and  graceful  lover. 
Zoroaster's  faultless  beauty  was  a  constant  delight 
to  her  eyes ;  his  soft  deep  voice  sounded  voluptuously 
passionate  when  he  spoke  to  herself,  coldly  and 
deliberately  dominating  when  addressing  others.  He 
moved  with  perfect  certainty  and  assurance  of  pur- 
pose, his  whole  presence  breathed  a  high  and  superior 
wisdom  and  untainted  nobility  of  mind;  he  looked 
and  acted  like  a  god,  like  a  being  from  another  world, 
not  subject  to  mortal  passions,  nor  to  the  temptations 
of  common  mankind.  She  gloried  in  his  perfection 
and  in  the  secret  knowledge  that  to  her  alone  he 
was  a  man  simply  and  utterly  dominated  by  love. 
As  she  thought  of  him  she  grew  proud  and  happy  in 
the  idea  that  such  a  man  should  be  her  lover,  and  she 
reproached  herself  for  doubting  his  devotion  that 
evening.  After  all,  she  had  only  complained  that  he 
had  neglected  her  —  as  he  had  really  done,  she  added. 
She  wondered  in  her  heart  whether  other  men  would 
have  done  the  same  in  his  place,  or  whether  this 
power  of  coldly  disregarding  her  presence  when  he 


58  ZOROASTER. 

was  occupied  with  a  serious  matter  were  not  due  to 
a  real  and  unconquerable  hardness  in  his  nature. 

But  as  she  lay  there,  her  dark  hair  streaming  over 
the  yellow  silk  of  her  pillows,  her  mind  strayed  from 
her  lover  to  the  life  before  her,  and  the  picture  rose 
quickly  in  her  imagination.  She  even  took  up  the 
silver  mirror  that  lay  beside  her  and  looked  at  herself 
by  the  dim  light  of  the  little  lamp,  and  said  to  her- 
self that  she  was  beautiful,  and  that  many  in  Shushan 
would  do  her  homage.  She  was  glad  that  Atossa 
was  so  fair  —  it  would  be  a  better  contrast  for  her 
own  dark  southern  beauty. 

Towards  morning  she  slept,  and  dreamed  of  the 
grand  figure  of  the  prophet,  as  she  had  seen  him 
stretched  upon  his  death-bed  in  the  upper  chamber 
of  the  tower ;  she  thought  the  dead  man  stirred  and 
opened  his  glazed  eyes  and  pointed  at  her  with  his 
bony  fingers,  and  spoke  words  of  anger  and  reproach. 
Then  she  woke  with  a  short  cry  in  her  terror,  and  the 
light  of  the  dawn  shone  gray  and  clear  through  the 
doorway  of  the  corridor  at  the  end  of  her  room, 
where  two  of  her  handmaids  slept  across  the  thres- 
hold, their  white  cloaks  drawn  over  their  heads 
against  the  chill  air  of  the  night. 

Then  the  trumpets  rang  out  in  long-drawn  clang- 
ing rhythm  through  the  morning  air,  and  Nehushta 
heard  the  trampling  of  the  beasts  that  were  being  got 
ready  for  the  journey,  in  the  court  without,  and  the 
cries  of  the  drivers  and  of  the  serving-men.  She  rose 
quickly  from  her  bed  —  a  lithe  white-clad  figure  in 
the  dawn  light  —  and  pushed  the  heavy  curtains 
aside  and  looked  out  through  the  lattice;   and  she 


ZOROASTER.  59 

forgot  her  evil  dream,  for  her  heart  leaped  again  at 
the  thought  that  she  should  no  more  be  shut  up  in 
Ecbatana,  and  that  before  another  month  was  over 
she  would  be  in  Shushan,  in  the  palace,  where  she 
longed  to  be. 


60  ZOROASTER. 


CHAPTER  V. 

The  sun  was  almost  setting,  and  his  light  was 
already  turning  to  a  golden  glow  upon  the  vast  plain 
of  Shushan,  as  the  caravan  of  travellers  halted  for 
the  last  time.  A  few  stades  away  the  two  mounds 
rose  above  the  royal  city  like  two  tables  out  of  the 
flat  country ;  the  lower  one  surmounted  by  the  mar- 
ble columns,  the  towers  and  turrets  and  gleaming 
architraves  of  the  palace ;  and  in  front,  upon  the 
right,  the  higher  elevation  crowned  by  the  dark  and 
massive  citadel  of  frowning  walls  and  battlements. 
The  place  chosen  for  the  halt  was  the  point  Avhere 
the  road  from  Nineveh,  into  which  they  had  turned 
when  about  half-way  from  Ecbatana,  joined  the  broad 
road  from  Babylon,  near  to  the  bridge.  For  some 
time  they  had  followed  the  quiet  stream  of  the 
Choaspes,  and,  looking  across  it,  had  watched  how 
the  fortress  seemed  to  come  forward  and  overhang 
the  river,  while  the  mound  of  the  palace  fell  away 
to  the  background.  The  city  itself  was,  of  course, 
completely  hidden  from  their  view  by  the  steep 
mounds,  that  looked  as  inaccessible  as  though  the;y 
had  been  built  of  solid  masonry. 

Everything  in  the  plain  was  green.  Stade  upon 
stade,  and  farsang  upon  farsang,  the  ploughed  fur- 
rows stretched  away  to  the  west  and  south ;  the  corn 
standing  already  green  and  high,  and  the  fig-trees 


ZOROASTER.  61 

putting  out  their  broad  green  leaves.  Here  and  there 
in  the  level  expanse  of  country  the  rays  of  the  declin- 
ing sun  were  reflected  from  the  whitewashed  walls 
of  a  farmhouse ;  or  in  the  farther  distance  lingered 
upon  the  burnt-brick  buildings  of  an  outlying  village. 
Beyond  the  river,  in  the  broad  meadow  beneath  the 
turret-clad  mound,  half-naked,  sunburnt  boys  drove 
iiome  the  small  humped  cows  to  the  milking,  scaring 
away,  as  they  went,  the  troops  of  white  horses  that 
pastured  in  the  same  field,  clapping  their  hands  and 
crying  out  at  the  little  black  foals  that  ran  and  frisked 
by  the  side  of  their  wliite  dams.  Here  and  there  a 
broad-shouldered,  bearded  fisherman  angled  in  the 
stream,  or  flung  out  a  brown  casting-net  upon  the 
placid  waters,  drawing  it  slowly  back  to  the  bank, 
with  eyes  intent  upon  the  moving  cords. 

The  caravan  halted  on  the  turf  by  the  side  of  the 
dusty  road ;  the  mounted  guards,  threescore  stalwart 
riders  from  the  Median  plains,  fell  back  to  make  room 
for  the  travellers,  and,  springing  to  the  ground,  set 
about  picketing  and  watering  their  horses  —  their 
brazen  armour  and  scarlet  and  blue  mantles  blazing 
in  a  mass  of  rich  colour  in  the  evening  sun  ;  while 
their  wild  white  horses,  untired  by  the  day's  march, 
plunged  and  snorted,  and  shook  themselves,  and  bit 
each  other  in  play  by  mane  and  tail,  in  the  delight  of 
being  at  least  half  free. 

Zoroaster  himself  —  his  purple  mantle  somewhat 
whitened  with  the  dust,  and  his  fair  face  a  little 
browned  by  the  three  weeks'  journey  —  threw  the 
bridle  of  his  horse  to  a  soldier  and  ran  quickly  for- 
ward.    A  magnificent  litter,  closed  all  around  with  a 


62  ZOROASTER. 

gilded  lattice,  and  roofed  with  three  awnings  of  white 
linen,  one  upon  the  other,  as  a  protection  against  the 
sun,  was  being  carefully  unyoked  from  the  mules 
that  had  borne  it.  Tall  Ethiopian  slaves  lifted  it, 
and  carried  it  to  the  greenest  spot  of  the  turf  by  the 
softly  flowing  river;  and  Zoroaster  himself  pushed 
back  the  lattice  and  spread  a  rich  carpet  before  it. 
Nehushta  took  his  proffered  hand  and  stepped  lightly 
out,  and  stood  beside  him  in  the  red  light.  She  was 
veiled,  and  her  purple  cloak  fell  in  long  folds  to  her 
feet,  and  she  stood  motionless,  with  her  back  to  the 
city,  looking  towards  the  setting  sun. 

"  Why  do  we  stop  here  ?  "  she  asked  suddenly. 

"  The  Great  King,  may  he  live  for  ever,  is  said  not 
to  be  in  the  city,"  answered  Zoroaster,  "  and  it  would 
ill  become  us  to  enter  the  palace  before  him."  He 
spoke  aloud  in  the  Median  language  that  the  slaves 
might  hear  him ;  then  he  added  in  Hebrew  and  in  a 
lower  voice,  "  It  would  be  scarcely  wise,  or  safe,  to 
enter  Shushan  when  the  king  is  away.  Who  can  tell 
what  may  have  happened  there  in  these  days?  Baby- 
lon has  rebelled;  the  empire  is  far  from  settled.  All 
Persia  may  be  on  the  very  point  of  a  revolt." 

"A  fitting  time  indeed  for  our  journey  —  for  me 
and  my  women  to  be  travelling  abroad  with  a  score 
of  horsemen  for  a  guard!  Why  did  you  bring  me 
here  ?  How  long  are  we  to  remain  encamped  by 
the  roadside,  waiting  the  pleasure  of  the  populace  to 
let  us  in,  or  the  convenience  of  this  new  king  to 
return  ?  " 

Nehushta  turned  upon  her  companion  as  she  spoke, 
and  there  was  a  ring  of  mingled  scorn  and  disappoint- 


ZOKOASTER.  63 

ment  in  her  voice.  Her  dark  eyes  stared  coldly  at 
Zoroaster  from  the  straight  opening  between  her 
veils,  and  before  he  could  answer,  she  turned  her 
back  upon  him  and  moved  a  few  steps  away,  gazing 
out  at  the  setting  sun  across  the  fertile  meadows. 
The  warrior  stood  still,  and  a  dark  flush  overspread 
his  face.  Then  he  turned  pale,  but  whatever  were 
the  words  that  rose  to  his  lips,  he  did  not  speak 
them,  but  occupied  himself  with  superintending  the 
pitching  of  the  women's  tents.  The  other  litters 
were  brought,  and  set  down  with  their  occupants; 
the  long  file  of  camels,  some  laden  with  baggage  and 
provisions,  some  bearing  female  slaves,  kneeled  down 
to  be  unloaded  upon  the  grass,  anxiously  craning 
their  long  necks  the  while  in  the  direction  of  the 
stream ;  the  tent-pitchers  set  to  work ;  and  at  the  last 
another  score  of  horsemen,  who  had  formed  the  rear^ 
guard  of  the  caravan,  cantered  up  and  joined  their 
companions  who  had  already  dismounted.  With  the 
rapid  skill  of  long  practice,  all  did  their  share,  and  in 
a  few  minutes  all  the  immense  paraphernalia  of  a 
Persian  encampment  were  spread  out  and  disposed 
in  place  for  the  night.  Contrary  to  the  usual  habit 
Zoroaster  had  not  permitted  the  tent-pitchers  and 
other  slaves  to  pass  on  while  he  and  his  charges 
made  their  noonday  halt ;  for  he  feared  some  upris 
ing  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  city  in  the  absence 
of  the  king,  and  he  wished  to  keep  his  whole  company 
together  as  a  measure  of  safety,  even  at  the  sacrifice 
of  Nehushta's  convenience. 

She  herself  still  stood  apart,  and  haughtily  turned 
away  from  her  serving-women,  giving  them  no  answer 


64  ZOROASTER. 

when  they  saluted  her  and  offered  her  cushions  and 
cooling  drinks.  She  drew  her  cloak  more  closely 
about  her  and  tightened  her  veil  ujjon  her  face.  She 
was  weary,  disappointed,  almost  angry.  For  days 
she  had  dreamed  of  the  reception  she  would  have  at 
the  palace,  of  the  king  and  of  the  court ;  of  the  luxury 
of  rest  after  her  long  journey,  and  of  the  thousand 
diversions  and  excitements  she  would  find  in  revisit- 
ing the  scenes  of  her  childhood.  It  was  no  small 
disappointment  to  find  herself  condemned  to  another 
night  in  camp ;  and  her  first  impulse  was  to  blame 
Zoroaster. 

In  spite  of  her  love  for  him,  her  strong  and  domi- 
nating temper  often  chafed  at  his  calmness,  and  re- 
sented the  resolute  superiority  of  his  intelligence  ;  and 
then,  being  conscious  that  her  own  dignity  suffered 
by  the  storms  of  her  temper,  she  was  even  more  angry 
than  before,  with  herself,  with  him,  with  every  one. 
But  Zoroaster  was  as  impassive  as  marble,  saving  that 
now  and  then  his  brow  flushed,  and  paled  quickly ; 
and  his  words,  if  he  spoke  at  all,  had  a  chilled  icy 
ring  in  them.  Sooner  or  later,  Nehushta's  passionate 
temper  cooled,  and  she  found  him  the  same  as  ever, 
devoted  and  gentle  and  loving ;  then  her  heart  went 
out  to  him  ancAv,  and  all  her  being  was  filled  with  the 
love  of  him,  even  to  overflowing. 

She  had  been  disappointed  now,  and  would  speak 
to  no  one.  She  moved  still  farther  from  the  crowd 
of  slaves  and  tent-pitchers,  followed  at  a  respectful 
distance  by  her  handmaidens,  who  whispered  together 
as  they  went;  and  again  she  stood  still  and  looked 
westward. 


ZOEOASTER.  65 

As  the  sun  neared  the  horizon,  his  low  rays  caught 
upon  a  raising  cloud  of  dust,  small  and  distant  as  the 
smoke  of  a  lire,  in  the  plain  towards  Babylon,  but 
whirling  quickly  upwards.  Nehushta's  eye  rested  on 
the  far-off  point,  and  she  raised  one  hand  to  shade  her 
sight.  She  remembered  how,  when  she  was  a  girl, 
she  had  watched  the  line  of  that  very  road  from  the 
palace  above,  and  had  seen  a  cloud  of  dust  arise  out 
of  a  mere  speck,  as  a  body  of  horsemen  galloped  into 
view.  There  was  no  mistaking  what  it  was.  A  troop 
of  horse  were  coming — perhaps  the  king  himself. 
Instinctively  she  turned  and  looked  for  Zoroaster,  anc] 
started,  as  she  saw  him  standing  at  a  little  distance 
from  her,  with  folded  arms,  his  eyes  bent  on  the 
horizon.  She  moved  towards  him  in  sudden  excite- 
ment. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  asked  in  low  tones. 

"It  is  the  Great  King — may  he  live  for  ever!" 
answered  Zoroaster.  "None  but  he  would  ride  so 
fast  along  the  royal  road." 

For  a  moment  they  stood  side  by  side,  watching 
the  dust  cloud ;  and  as  they  stood,  Nehushta's  hand 
stole  out  from  her  cloak  and  touched  the  warrior's 
arm,  softly,  with  a  trembling  of  the  fingers,  as  though 
she  timidly  sought  something  she  would  not  ask  for. 
Zoroaster  turned  his  head  and  saw  that  her  eyes  were 
moistened  with  tears ;  he  understood,  but  he  would 
not  take  her  hand,  for  there  were  many  slaves  near, 
besides  Nehushta's  kinsfolk,  and  he  would  not  have 
had  them  see ;  but  he  looked  on  her  tenderly,  and  on 
a  sudden,  his  eyes  grew  less  sad,  and  the  light  re- 
turned in  them. 


66  ZOROASTER. 

"  My  beloved ! "  he  said  softly. 

"I  was  wrong,  Zoroaster — forgive  me,"  she  mur- 
mured. She  suffered  him  to  lead  her  to  her  tent, 
which  was  already  pitched ;  and  he  left  her  there, 
sitting  at  the  door  and  watching  his  movements, 
while  he  called  together  his  men  and  drew  them  up 
in  a  compact  ranli  by  the  roadside,  to  be  ready  to 
salute  the  king. 

Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  cloud;  and  the  red 
glow  turned  to  purple  and  the  sun  went  out  of  sight; 
and  still  it  came  nearer,  that  whirling  cloud-canopy 
of  fine  powdered  dust,  rising  to  right  and  left  of  the 
road  in  vast  round  puffs,  and  hanging  overhead  like 
the  smoke  from  some  great  moving  fire.  Then,  from 
beneath  it,  there  seemed  to  come  a  distant'^'oar  like 
thunder,  rising  and  falling  on  the  silent  air,  but  rising 
ever  louder;  and  a  dark  gleam  of  polished  bronze, 
with  something  more  purple  than  the  purple  sunset, 
took  shape  slowly  ;  then  with  the  low  roar  of  sound, 
came  now  and  then,  and  then  more  often,  the  clank 
of  harness  and  arms ;  till  at  last,  the  whole  stamping, 
rushing,  clanging  crowd  of  galloping  horsemen  seemed 
to  emerge  suddenly  from  the  dust  in  a  thundering 
charge,  the  very  earth  shaking  beneath  their  weight, 
and  the  whole  air  vibrating  to  the  tremendous  shock 
of  pounding  hoofs  and  the  din  of  clashing  brass. 

A  few  lengths  before  the  serried  ranks  rode  one 
man  alone,  — a  square  figure,  wrapped  in  a  cloak  of 
deeper  and  richer  purple  than  any  worn  by  the  ordinary 
nobles,  sitting  like  a  rock  upon  a  great  white  horse. 
As  he  came  up,  Zoroaster  and  his  fourscore  men  threw 
up  their  hands. 


ZOROASTER.  67 

"  Hail,  king  of  kings  !  Hail,  and  live  for  ever ! " 
they  cried,  and  as  one  man,  they  prostrated  them- 
selves npon  their  faces  on  the  grass  by  the  roadside. 

Darius  drew  rein  suddenly,  bringing  his  steed  from 
his  full  gallop  to  his  haunches  in  an  instant.  After 
him  the  rushing  riders  threw  up  their  right  hands  as 
a  signal  to  those  behind ;  and  with  a  deafening  con- 
cussion, as  of  the  ocean  breaking  at  once  against  a 
wall  of  rock,  those  matchless  Persian  horsemen  halted 
in  a  body  in  the  space  of  a  few  yards,  their  steeds 
plunging  wildly,  rearing  to  their  height  and  strug^ 
gling  on  the  curb;  but  helpless  to  advance  against 
the  strong  hands  that  held  them.  The  blossom  and 
flower  o^i^all  the  Persian  nobles  rode  there,  —  their 
purple  niantles  flying  with  the  wild  motion,  their 
bronze  cuirasses  black  in  the  gathering  twilight, 
their  bearded  faces  dark  and  square  beneath  their 
gilded  helmets. 

"  I  am  Darius,  the  king  of  kings,  on  whom  ye  call," 
cried  the  king,  whose  steed  now  stood  like  a  marble 
statue,  immovable  in  the  middle  of  the  road.  "  Rise, 
speak  and  fear  nothing,  —  unless  ye  speak  lies." 

Zoroaster  rose  to  his  feet,  then  bent  low,  and  taking 
a  few  grains  of  dust  from  the  roadside,  touched  his 
mouth  with  his  hand  and  let  the  dust  fall  upon  his 
forehead. 

"  Hail,  and  hve  for  e-ver  !  I  am  thy  servant,  Zoro- 
aster, who  was  captain  over  the  fortress  and  treasury 
of  Ecbatana.  According  to  thy  word  I  have  brought 
the  kinsfolk  of  Jehoiakim,  king  of  Judah,  —  chief  of 
whom  is  Nehushta,  the  princess.  I  heard  that  thou 
wast  absent  from  Shushan,  and  here  I  have  waited  for 


68  ZOROASTER. 

thy  coming.  I  also  sent  thee  messengers  to  announce 
that  Daniel,  surnamed  Belteshazzar,  who  was  Satrap 
of  Media  from  the  time  of  Cambyses,  is  dead ;  and  I 
have  buried  him  fittingly  in  a  new  tomb  in  the  garden 
of  the  palace  of  Ecbatana." 

Darius,  quick  and  impulsive  in  every  thought  and 
action,  sprang  to  the  ground  as  Zoroaster  finished 
speaking,  and  coming  to  him,  took  both  his  hands 
and  kissed  him  on  both  cheeks. 

"  What  thou  hast  done  is  well  done,  —  I  know  thee 
of  old.  Auramazda  is  with  thee.  He  is  also  with 
me.  By  his  grace  I  have  slain  the  rebels  at  Babylon. 
They  spoke  lies,  so  I  slew  them.  Show  me  Nehushta, 
the  daughter  of  the  kings  of  Judah." 

"  I  am  thy  servant.  The  princess  is  at  hand,"  an- 
swered Zoroaster  ;  but  as  he  spoke,  he  turned  pale  to 
the  lips. 

By  this  time  it  had  grown  dark,  and  the  moon,  just 
past  the  full,  had  not  yet  risen  from  behind  the  mound 
of  the  fortress.  The  slaves  brought  torches  of  min- 
gled wax  and  fir-gum,  and  their  black  figures  shone 
strangely  in  the  red  glare,  as  they  pressed  toward  the 
door  of  Nehushta's  tent,  lighting  the  way  for  the  king. 

Darius  strode  quickly  forward,  his  gilded  harness 
clanging  as  he  walked,  the  strong  flaring  light  illu- 
minating his  bold  dark  features.  Under  the  striped 
curtain,  drawn  up  to  form  the  entrance  of  the  tent, 
stood  Nehushta.  She  had  thrown  aside  her  veil  and 
her  women  had  quickly  placed  upon  her  head  the 
linen  tiara,  where  a  single  jewel  shown  like  a  star  in 
the  white  folds.  Her  thick  black  hair  fell  in  masses 
upon  her  shoulders,  and  her  mantle  was  thrown  back, 


ZOKOASTER.  69 

displaying  the  grand  proportions  of  her  figure,  clad  in 
tunic  and  close-fitting  belt.  As  the  king  came  near, 
she  kneeled  and  prostrated  herself  before  him,  touch- 
ing her  forehead  to  the  ground,  and  waiting  for  him 
to  speak. 

He  stood  still  a  full  minute  and  his  eyes  flashed 
fire,  as  he  looked  on  her  crouching  figure,  in  very 
pride  that  so  queenly  a  woman  should  be  forced  to 
kneel  at  his  feet  —  but  more  in  sudden  admiration  of 
her  marvellous  beauty.  Then  he  bent  down,  and 
took  her  hand  and  raised  her  to  her  feet.  She  sprang 
up,  and  faced  him  with  glowing  cheeks  and  flashing 
eyes ;  and  as  she  stood  she  was  nearly  as  tall  as  he. 

"  I  would  not  that  a  princess  of  thy  line  kneeled 
before  me,"  said  he ;  and  in  his  voice  there  was  a 
strange  touch  of  softness.  "  Wilt  thou  let  me  rest 
here  awhile  before  I  go  up  to  Shushan  ?  I  am  weary 
of  riding  and  thirsty  from  the  road." 

"Hail,  king  of  the  world!  I  am  thy  servant, 
Rest  thee  and  refresh  thee  here,"  answered  Nehushta, 
drawing  back  into  the  tent.  The  king  beckoned  to 
Zoroaster  to  follow  him  and  went  in. 

Darius  sat  upon  the  carved  folding-chair  that  stood 
in  the  midst  of  the  tent  by  the  main  pole,  and  eagerly 
drained  the  huge  golden  goblet  of  Shiraz  wine  which 
Zoroaster  poured  for  him.  Then  he  took  off  his  head- 
piece, and  his  thick,  coarse  hair  fell  in  a  mass  of  dark 
curls  to  his  neck,  like  the  mane  of  a  black  lion.  He 
breathed  a  long  breath  as  of  relief  and  enjoyment  of 
well-earned  repose,  and  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  letting 
his  eyes  rest  on  Nehushta's  face  as  she  stood  before 
him  looking  down  to  the  ground.    Zoroaster  remained 


70  ZOROASTER. 

on  one  side,  holding  the  replenished  goblet  in  his  hand, 
in  case  the  king's  thirst  were  not  assuaged  by  a  single 
draught. 

"  Thou  art  fair,  daughter  of  Jerusalem,"  said  the 
king  presently.  ''  I  remember  thy  beauty,  for  I  saw 
thee  in  Ecbatana.  I  sent  for  thee  and  thy  kinsfolk 
that  I  might  do  thee  honour ;  and  I  will  also  fulfil 
my  words.     I  will  take  thee  to  be  my  Avife." 

Darius  spoke  quietly,  in  his  usual  tone  of  absolute 
determination.  But  if  the  concentrated  fury  of  a 
thousand  storms  had  suddenly  broken  loose  in  the 
very  midst  of  the  tent,  the  effect  could  not  have  been 
more  terrible  on  his  hearers. 

Nehushta's  face  flushed  suddenly,  and  for  a  moment 
she  trembled  in  every  joint ;  then  she  fell  on  her  knees, 
prostrate  before  the  king's  feet,  all  the  wealth  of  her 
splendid  hair  falling  loose  about  her.  Darius  sat  still, 
as  though  watching  the  result  of  his  speech.  He 
might  have  sat  long,  but  in  an  instant,  Zoroaster 
sprang  between  the  king  and  the  kneeling  woman; 
and  the  golden  goblet  he  had  held  rolled  across  the 
thick  carpet  on  the  ground,  while  the  rich  red  wine 
ran  in  a  slow  stream  towards  the  curtains  of  the  door. 
His  face  was  livid  and  his  eyes  like  coals  of  blue  fire, 
his  fair  locks  and  his  long  golden  beard  caught  the 
torchlight  and  shone  about  him  like  a  glory,  as  he 
stood  up  to  his  grand  height  and  faced  the  king. 
Darius  never  quailed  nor  moved ;  his  look  met  Zoro- 
aster's with  fearless  boldness.  Zoroaster  spoke  first, 
in  low  accents  of  concentrated  fury : 

"Nehushta  the  princess  is  my  betrothed  bride. 
Though  thou  wert  king  of  the  stars  as  well  as  king  of 
the  earth,  thou  shalt  not  have  her  for  thy  wife." 


ZOROASTER.  71 

Darius  smiled,  not  scornfully,  an  honest  smile  of 
amusement,  as  he  stared  at  the  wrathful  figure  of  the 
northern  man  before  him. 

"  I  am  the  king  of  kings,"  he  answered.  "  I  will 
marry  this  princess  of  Judah  to-morrow,  and  thee  I 
will  crucify  upon  the  highest  turret  of  Shushan,  be- 
cause thou  speakest  lies  when  thou  sayest  I  shall  not 
marry  her." 

"Fool!  tempt  not  thy  God!  Threaten  not  him 
who  is  stronger  than  thou,  lest  he  slay  thee  with  his 
hands  where  thou  sittest."  Zoroaster's  voice  sounded 
low  and  distinct  as  the  knell  of  relentless  fate,  and 
his  hand  went  out  towards  the  king's  throat. 

Until  this  moment,  Darius  had  sat  in  his  indifferent 
attitude,  smiling  carelessly,  though  never  taking  his 
eye  from  his  adversary.  Brave  as  the  bravest,  he 
scorned  to  move  until  he  was  attacked,  and  he  would 
have  despised  the  thought  of  calling  to  his  guards. 
But  when  Zoroaster's  hand  went  out  to  seize  him,  he 
was  ready.  With  a  spring  like  a  tiger,  he  flew  at  the 
strong  man's  throat,  and  sought  to  drag  him  down, 
striving  to  fasten  his  grip  about  the  collar  of  his 
cuirass,  but  Zoroaster  slipped  his  hand  quickly  under 
his  adversary's,  his  sleeve  went  back  and  his  long 
white  arm  ran  like  a  fetter  of  steel  about  the  king's 
neck,  while  his  other  hand  gripped  him  by  the  mid- 
dle ;  so  they  held  each  other  like  wrestlers,  one  arm 
above  the  shoulder  and  one  below,  and  strove  with 
all  their  might. 

The  king  was  short,  but  in  his  thick-set  broad 
shoulders  and  knotted  arms  there  lurked  the  strength 
of  a  bull  and  the  quickness  of  a  tiger.     Zoroaster  had 


72  ZOROASTER. 

the  advantage,  for  his  right  arm  was  round  Darius's 
neck,  but  while  one  might  count  a  score,  neither 
moved  a  hairbreadth,  and  the  blue  veins  stood  out 
like  cords  on  the  tall  man's  arm.  The  fiery  might  of 
the  southern  prince  was  matched  against  the  stately 
strength  of  the  fair  northerner,  whose  face  grew  as 
white  as  death,  while  the  king's  brow  was  purple 
with  the  agony  of  effort.  They  both  breathed  hard 
between  their  clenched  teeth,  but  neither  uttered  a 
word. 

Nehushta  had  leaped  to  her  feet  in  terror  at  the 
first  sign  of  the  coming  strife,  but  she  did  not  cry 
out,  nor  call  in  the  slaves  or  guards.  She  stood, 
holding  the  tent-pole  with  one  hand,  and  gathering 
her  mantle  to  her  breast  with  the  other,  gazing  in 
absolute  fascination  at  the  fearful  life  and  death 
struggle,  at  the  unspeakable  and  tremendous  strength 
so  silently  exerted  by  the  two  men  before  her. 

Suddenly  they  moved  and  swayed.  Darius  had 
attempted  to  trip  Zoroaster  with  one  foot,  but  slip- 
ping on  the  carpet  wet  with  wine,  had  been  bent 
nearly  double  to  the  ground ;  then  by  a  violent  effort, 
he  regained  his  footing.  But  the  great  exertion  had 
weakened  his  strength.  Nehushta  thought  a  smile 
flickered  on  Zoroaster's  pale  face  and  his  flashing 
dark  blue  eyes  met  hers  for  a  moment,  and  then  the 
end  began.  Slowly,  and  by  imperceptible  degrees, 
Zoroaster  forced  the  king  down  before  him,  doubling 
him  backwards  with  irresistible  strength,  till  it  seemed 
as  though  bone  and  sinew  and  muscle  must  be  broken 
and  torn  asunder  in  the  desperate  resistance.  Then, 
at  last,  when  his  head  almost  touched  the  ground, 


ZOKOASTER.  T3 

Darius  groaned  and  his  limbs  relaxed.  Instantly 
Zoroaster  threw  him  on  his  back  and  kneeled  with 
his  whole  weight  upon  his  chest,  —  the  gilded  scales 
of  the  corselet  cracking  beneath  the  burden,  and  he 
held  the  king's  hands  down  on  either  side,  pinioned 
to  the  floor.  Darius  struggled  desperately  twice  and 
then  lay  quite  still.  Zoroaster  gazed  down  upon 
him  with  blazing  eyes. 

"  Thou  who  wouldst  crucify  me  upon  Shushan," 
he  said  through  his  teeth.  "I  will  slay  thee  here 
even  as  thou  didst  slay  Smerdis.  Hast  thou  any- 
thing to  say  ?     Speak  quickly,  for  thy  hour  is  come." 

Even  in  the  extremity  of  his  agony,  vanquished 
and  at  the  point  of  death,  Darius  was  brave,  as  brave 
men  are,  to  the  very  last.  He  would  indeed  have 
called  for  help  now,  but  there  was  no  breath  in  him. 
He  still  gazed  fearlessly  into  the  eyes  of  his  terrible 
conqueror.     His  voice  came  in  a  hoarse  whisper. 

"  I  fear  not  death.  Slay  on  if  thou  wilt  —  thou  — 
hast —  conquered." 

Nehushta  had  come  near.  She  trembled  now  that 
the  fight  was  over,  and  looked  anxiously  to  the  heavy 
curtains  of  the  tent-door. 

"  Tell  him,"  she  whispered  to  Zoroaster,  "  that  you 
will  spare  him  if  he  will  do  no  harm  to  you,  nor  to 
me." 

"  Spare  him  !  "  echoed  Zoroaster  scornfully.  "  He 
is  almost  dead  now  —  why  should  I  spare  him  ?  " 

"  For  my  sake,  beloved,"  answered  Nehushta,  with 
a  sudden  and  passionate  gesture  of  entreaty.  "  He  is 
the  king  —  he  speaks  truth:  if  he  says  he  will  not 
harm  you,  trust  him." 


74  ZOROASTER. 

"  If  I  slay  thee  not,  swear  thou  wilt  not  harm  me 
nor  Nehushta,"  said  Zoroaster,  removing  one  knee 
from  the  chest  of  his  adversary. 

"  By  the  name  of  Auramazda,"  gasped  Darius,  "  I 
will  not  harm  thee  nor  her." 

"  It  is  well,"  said  Zoroaster.  "  I  will  let  thee  go. 
And  as  for  taking  her  to  be  thy  wife,  thou  mayest 
ask  her  if  she  will  wed  thee,"  he  added.  He  rose 
and  helped  the  king  to  his  feet.  Darius  shook  him- 
self and  breathed  hard  for  a  few  minutes.  He  felt 
his  limbs  as  a  man  might  do  who  had  fallen  from  his 
horse,  and  then  he  sat  down  upon  the  chair,  and 
broke  into  a  loud  laugh. 

Darius  was  well  known  to  all  Persia  and  Media 
before  the  events  of  the  last  two  months,  and  such 
was  his  reputation  for  abiding  by  his  promise  that  he 
was  universally  trusted  by  those  about  him.  Zoroas- 
ter had  known  him  also,  and  he  remembered  his  easy 
familiarity  and  love  of  jesting,  so  that  even  when  he 
held  the  king  at  such  vantage  that  he  might  have 
killed  him  by  a  little  additional  pressure  of  his  weight, 
he  felt  not  the  least  hesitation  in  accepting  his  prom- 
ise of  safety.  But  remembering  what  a  stake  had 
been  played  for  in  the  desperate  issue,  he  could  not 
join  in  the  king's  laugh.  He  stood  silently  apart,  and 
looked  at  Nehushta  who  leaned  back  against  the  tent- 
pole  in  violent  agitation ;  her  hands  wringing  each 
other  beneath  her  long  sleeves,  and  her  eyes  turning 
from  the  king  to  Zoroaster,  and  back  again  to  the 
king,  in  evident  distress  and  fear. 

"Thou  hast  a  mighty  arm,  Zoroaster,"  cried  Da- 
rius, as  his  laughter  subsided,  "  and  thou  hadst  well- 


ZOROASTER.  75 

nigh  made  an  end  of  the  Great  King  and  of  Persia, 
Media,  Babylon  and  Egypt  in  thy  grip." 

''  Let  the  king  pardon  his  servant,"  answered  Zo- 
roaster, "  if  his  knee  was  heavy  and  his  hand  strong. 
Had  not  the  king  slipped  upon  the  spilt  wine,  his 
servant  would  have  been  thrown  down." 

"  And  thou  wouldst  have  been  crucified  at  dawn," 
added  Darius,  laughing  again.  "  It  is  well  for  thee 
that  I  am  Darius  and  not  Cambyses,  or  thou  wouldst 
not  be  standing  there  before  me  while  my  guards  are 
gossiping  idly  in  the  road.  Give  me  a  cup  of  wine 
since  thou  hast  spared  my  life  !  "  Again  the  king 
laughed  as  though  his  sides  would  break.  Zoroaster 
hastily  filled  another  goblet  and  offered  it,  kneeling 
before  the  monarch.  Darius  paused  before  he  took 
the  cup,  and  looked  at  the  kneeling  warrior's  pale 
proud  face.  Then  he  spoke  and  his  voice  dropped 
to  a  less  mirthful  key,  as  he  laid  his  hand  on  Zo- 
roaster's shoulder. 

"I  love  thee,  prince,"  he  said,  "because  thou  art 
stronger  than  I ;  and  as  brave  and  more  merciful. 
Therefore  shalt  thou  stand  ever  at  my  right  hand 
and  I  will  trust  thee  with  my  life  in  thy  hand.  And 
in  pledge  hereunto  I  put  my  own  chain  of  gold  about 
thy  neck,  and  I  drink  this  cup  to  thee ;  and  whoso- 
ever shall  harm  a  hair  of  thine  head  shall  perish  in 
torments." 

The  king  drank ;  and  Zoroaster,  overcome  with 
genuine  admiration  of  the  great  soul  that  could  so 
easily  forgive  so  dire  an  offence,  bent  and  embraced 
the  king's  knees  in  token  of  adherence,  and  as  a  seal 
of  that  friendship  which  was  never  to  be  broken  until 
death  parted  the  two  men  asunder. 


76  ZOEOASTER. 

Then  they  arose,  and  at  Zoroaster's  order,  the 
princess's  litter  was  brought,  and  leaving  the  en- 
campment to  follow  after  them,  they  went  up  to  the 
palace.  Nehushta  was  borne  between  the  litters  of 
her  women  and  her  slaves  on  foot,  but  Zoroaster 
mounted  his  horse  and  rode  slowly  and  in  silence  by 
the  right  side  of  the  Great  King. 


ZOROASTER.  77 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Athwart  the  gleaming  colonnades  of  the  eastern 
balcony,  the  early  morning  sun  shone  brightly,  and 
all  the  shadows  of  the  white  marble  cornices  and 
capitals  and  jutting  frieze  work  were  blue  with  the 
reflection  of  the  cloudless  sky.  The  swallows  now 
and  then  shot  in  under  the  overhanging  roof  and 
flew  up  and  down  the  covered  terrace ;  then  with  a 
quick  rush,  they  sped  forth  again  into  the  dancing 
sunshine  with  clean  sudden  sweep,  as  when  a  sharp 
sword  is  whirled  in  the  air.  Far  below,  the  soft  mist 
of  the  dawn  still  lay  upon  the  city,  whence  the  dis- 
tant cries  of  the  water-carriers  and  fruitsellers  came 
echoing  up  from  the  waking  streets,  the  call  of  the 
women  to  one  another  from  the  housetops,  and  now 
and  then  the  neighing  of  a  horse  far  out  upon  the 
meadows ;  while  the  fleet  swallows  circled  over  all  in 
swift  wide  curves,  with  a  silvery  fresh  stream  of  un- 
ceasing twittering  music. 

Zoroaster  paced  the  balcony  alone.  He  was  fully 
armed,  with  his  helmet  upon  his  head ;  the  crest  of 
the  winged  wheels  was  replaced  by  the  ensign  Darius 
had  chosen  for  himself,  —  the  half-figure  of  a  likeness 
of  the  king  with  long  straight  wings  on  either  side, 
of  w^rought  gold  and  very  fine  workmanship.  The 
long  purple  mantle  hung  to  his  heels  and  the  royal 
chain  of  gold  was  about  his  neck.     As  he  walked  the 


78  ZOROASTER. 

gilded  leather  of  liis  shoes  was  reflected  in  the  pol- 
ished marble  pavement  and  he  trod  cautiously,  for 
the  clean  surface  was  slippery  as  the  face  of  a  mirror. 
At  one  end  of  the  terrace  a  stairway  led  down  to  the 
lower  story  of  the  palace,  and  at  the  other  end  a  high 
square  door  was  masked  by  a  heavy  curtain  of  rich 
purple  and  gold  stuff,  that  fell  in  thick  folds  to  the 
glassy  floor.  Each  time  his  walk  brought  him  to  this 
end  Zoroaster  paused,  as  though  expecting  that  some 
one  should  come  out.  But  as  it  generally  happens 
when  a  man  is  waiting  for  something  or  some  one 
that  the  object  or  person  appears  unexpectedly,  so  it 
occurred  that  as  he  turned  back  from  the  staircase 
towards  the  curtain,  he  saw  that  some  one  had  already 
advanced  half  the  length  of  the  balcony  to  meet 
him  —  and  it  was  not  the  person  for  whom  he  was 
looking. 

At  first,  he  was  dazzled  for  a  moment,  but  his 
memory  served  him  instantly  and  he  recognised  the 
face  and  form  of  a  woman  he  had  known  and  often 
seen  before.  She  was  not  tall,  but  so  perfectly  pro- 
portioned that  it  was  impossible  to  wish  that  she  were 
taller.  Her  close  tunic  of  palest  blue,  bordered  with 
a  gold  embroidery  at  the  neck,  betrayed  the  matchless 
symmetry  of  her  figure,  the  unspeakable  grace  of  de- 
velopment of  a  woman  in  the  fullest  bloom  of  beauty. 
From  her  knees  to  her  feet,  her  under  tunic  showed 
the  purple  and  white  bands  that  none  but  the  king 
might  wear,  and  which  even  for  the  queen  was  an  un- 
due assumption  of  the  royal  insignia.  But  Zoroaster 
did  not  look  at  her  dress,  nor  at  her  mantle  of  royal 
sea-purple,  nor  at  the  marvellous  white  hands  that 


ZOROASTER.  79 

held  together  a  written  scroll.  His  eyes  rested  on 
her  face,  and  he  stood  still  where  he  was. 

He  knew  those  straight  and  perfect  features,  not 
large  nor  heavy,  but  of  such  rare  mould  and  faultless 
type  as  man  has  not  seen  since,  neither  will  see.  The 
perfect  curve  of  the  fresh  mouth ;  the  white  forward 
chin  with  its  sunk  depression  in  the  midst ;  the  deep- 
set,  blue  eyes  and  the  straight  pencilled  brows ;  the 
broad  smooth  forehead  and  the  tiny  ear  half  hidden 
in  the  glory  of  sun-golden  hair ;  the  milk-white  skin 
just  tinged  with  the  faint  rose-light  that  never 
changed  or  reddened  in  heat  or  cold,  in  anger  or 
in  joy  —  he  knew  them  all ;  the  features  of  royal 
Cyrus  made  soft  and  womanly  in  substance,  but 
unchanging  still  and  faultlessly  cold  in  his  great 
daughter  Atossa,  the  child  of  kings,  the  wife  of 
kings,  the  mother  of  kings. 

The  heavy  curtains  had  fallen  together  behind  her, 
aad  she  came  forward  alone.  She  had  seen  Zoroaster 
before  he  had  seen  her,  and  she  moved  on  without 
showing  any  surprise,  the  heels  of  her  small  golden 
shoes  clicking  sharply  on  the  polished  floor.  Zoroaster 
remained  standing  for  a  moment,  and  then,  removing 
his  helmet  in  salutation,  went  to  one  side  of  the  head 
of  the  staircase  and  waited  respectfully  for  the  queen 
to  pass.  As  she  came  on,  passing  alternately  through 
the  shadow  cast  by  the  columns,  and  the  sunlight 
that  blazed  between,  her  advancing  figure  flashed 
with  a  new  illumination  at  every  step.  She  made  as 
though  she  were  going  straight  on,  but  as  she  passed 
over  the  threshold  to  the  staircase,  she  suddenly 
stopped  and  turned  half  round,  and  looked  straight 
at  Zoroaster. 


80  ZOROASTER. 

"Thou  art  Zoroaster,"  she  said  in  a  smooth  and 
musical  voice,  like  the  ripple  of  a  clear  stream  flowing 
through  summer  meadows. 

"  I  am  Zoroaster,  thy  servant,"  he  answered,  bowing 
his  head.     He  spoke  very  coldly. 

"  I  remember  thee  well,"  said  the  queen,  lingering 
by  the  head  of  the  staircase.  "  Thou  art  little  changed, 
saving  that  thou  art  stronger,  I  should  think,  and  more 
of  a  soldier  than  formerly." 

Zoroaster  stood  turning  his  polished  helmet  in  his 
hands,  but  he  answered  nothing ;  he  cared  little  for 
the  queen's  praises.  But  she,  it  seemed,  was  desirous 
of  pleasing  him  in  proportion  as  he  was  less  anxious 
to  be  pleased,  for  she  turned  again  and  walked  for- 
ward upon  the  terrace. 

"  Come  into  the  sunlight  —  the  morning  air  is  cold," 
she  said,  "  I  would  speak  with  thee  awhile." 

A  carved  chair  stood  in  a  corner  of  the  balcony. 
Zoroaster  moved  it  into  the  sunshine,  and  Atossa  sat 
down,  smiling  her  thanks  to  him,  while  he  stood  lean- 
ing against  the  balustrade,  —  a  magnificent  figure  as 
the  light  caught  his  gilded  harness  and  gold  neck- 
chain,  and  played  on  his  long  fair  beard  and  nestled 
in  the  folds  of  his  purple  mantle. 

"  Tell  me — you  came  last  night  ?  "  she  asked,  spread- 
ing her  dainty  hands  in  the  sunshine  as  though  to 
warm  them.  She  never  feared  the  sun,  for  he  was 
friendly  to  her  nativity  and  never  seemed  to  scorch 
her  fair  skin  like  that  of  meaner  women. 

"Thy  servant  came  last  night,"  answered  the 
prince. 

"Bringing  Nehushta  and  the  other  Hebrews?" 
added  the  queen. 


ZOEOASTER.  81 

"  Even  so." 

"Tell  me  something  of  this  Nehushta,"  said  Atossa. 
She  had  dropped  into  a  more  familiar  form  of  speech. 
But  Zoroaster  was  careful  of  his  words  and  never 
allowed  his  language  to  relapse  from  the  distant  form 
of  address  of  a  subject  to  his  sovereign. 

"  The  queen  knoweth  her.  She  was  here  as  a  young 
child  a  few  years  since,"  he  replied.  He  chose  to 
let  Atossa  ask  questions  for  all  the  information  she 
needed. 

"  It  is  so  long  ago,"  she  said,  with  a  little  sigh.  "  Is 
she  fair  ?  " 

"Nay,  she  is  dark,  after  the  manner  of  the 
Hebrews." 

"  And  the  Persians  too,"  she  interrupted. 

"  She  is  very  beautiful,"  continued  Zoroaster.  "  She 
is  very  tall."  Atossa  looked  up  quickly  with  a  smile. 
She  was  not  tall  herself,  with  all  her  beauty. 

"  You  admire  tall  women  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Zoroaster  calmly  —  well  knowing  what 
he  said.  He  did  not  wish  to  flatter  the  queen ;  and 
besides  he  knew  her  too  well  to  do  so  if  he  wished  to 
please  her.  She  was  one  of  those  women  who  are  not 
accustomed  to  doubt  their  own  superiority  over  the 
rest  of  their  sex. 

"Then  you  admire  this  Hebrew  princess?"  said 
she,  and  paused  for  an  answer.  But  her  companion 
was  as  cold  and  calm  as  she.  Seeing  himself  directl;^ 
pressed  by  a  suspicion,  he  changed  his  tactics  and 
flattered  Atossa  for  the  sake  of  putting  a  stop  to  her 
questions. 

"  Height  is  not  of  itself  beauty,"  he  answered  with 

G 


82  ZOROASTER. 

a  courteous  smile.  "  There  is  a  kind  of  beauty  which 
no  height  can  improve,  —  a  perfection  which  needs 
not  to  be  set  high  for  all  men  to  acknowledge  it." 

The  queen  simply  took  no  notice  of  the  compli- 
ment, but  it  had  its  desired  effect,  for  she  changed 
the  tone  of  her  talk  a  little,  speaking  more  seriously. 

"  Where  is  she  ?     I  will  go  and  see  her,"  she  said. 

"She  rested  last  night  in  the  upper  chambers  in 
the  southern  part  of  the  palace.  Thy  servant  will 
bid  her  come  if  it  be  thy  desire." 

"  Presently,  presently,"  answered  the  queen.  "  It 
is  yet  early,  and  she  was  doubtless  weary  of  the 
journey." 

There  was  a  pause.  Zoroaster  looked  down  at  the 
beautiful  queen  as  she  sat  beside  him,  and  wondered 
whether  she  had  changed  ;  and  as  he  gazed,  he  fell  to 
comparing  her  beauty  with  Nehushta's,  and  his  glance 
grew  more  intent  than  he  had  meant  it  should  be,  so 
that  Atossa  looked  up  suddenly  and  met  his  eyes  rest- 
ing on  her  face. 

"  It  is  long  since  we  have  met,  Zoroaster,"  she  said 
quickly.  "  Tell  me  of  your  life  in  that  wild  fortress. 
You  have  prospered  in  your  profession  of  arms  —  you 
wear  the  royal  chain."  She  put  up  her  hand  and 
touched  the  links  as  though  to  feel  them.  "  Indeed 
it  is  very  like  the  chain  Darius  wore  when  he  went  to 
Babylon  the  other  day."  She  paused  a  moment  as 
though  trying  to  recall  something;  then  continued: 
"Yes  —  now  I  think  of  it,  he  had  no  chain  when  he 
came  back.  It  is  his  —  of  course  —  why  has  he  given 
it  to  you?"  Her  tones  had  a  tinge  of  uncertainty 
in  the  question,  —  half  imperious,  as  demanding  an 


ZOROASTER.  83 

answer,  half  persuading,  as  though  not  sure  the 
answer  would  be  given.  Zoroaster  remembered  that 
intonation  of  her  sweet  voice,  and  he  smiled  in  his 
beard. 

"  Indeed,"  he  answered,  "  the  Great  King  who  liveth 
for  ever,  put  this  chain  about  my  neck  with  his  own 
hands  last  night,  when  he  halted  by  the  roadside,  as  a 
reward,  I  presume,  for  certain  qualities  he  believeth 
his  servant  Zoroaster  to  possess." 

"  Qualities  —  what  qualities  ?  " 

"Nay,  the  queen  cannot  expect  me  to  sing  faith- 
fully my  own  praises.  Nevertheless,  I  am  ready  to 
die  for  the  Great  King.  He  knoweth  that  I  am. 
May  he  live  for  ever ! " 

"  It  may  be  that  one  of  the  qualities  was  the  suc- 
cessful performance  of  the  extremely  difficult  task 
you  have  lately  accomplished,"  said  Atossa,  with  a 
touch  of  scorn. 

"  A  task  ?  "  repeated  Zoroaster. 

"  Yes  —  have  you  not  brought  a  handful  of  Hebrew 
women  all  the  way  from  Ecbatana  to  Shushan, 
through  numberless  dangers  and  difficulties,  safe  and 
sound,  and  so  carefully  prudent  of  their  comfort  that 
they  are  not  even  weary,  nor  have  they  once  hungered 
or  thirsted  by  the  way,  nor  lost  the  smallest  box  of 
perfume,  nor  the  tiniest  of  their  golden  hair-pins? 
Surely  you  have  deserved  to  have  a  royal  chain  hung 
about  your  neck  and  to  be  called  the  king's  friend." 

"  The  reward  was  doubtless  greater  than  my  desert. 
It  was  no  great  feat  of  arms  that  I  had  to  perform ; 
and  yet,  in  these  days  a  man  may  leave  Media  under 
one  king,  and  reach  Shushan  under  another.      The 


84  ZOROASTER. 

queen  knoweth  better  than  any  one  what  sudden 
changes  may  take  place  in  the  empire,"  answered 
Zoroaster,  looking  calmly  into  her  face  as  he  stood ; 
and  she  who  had  been  the  wife  of  Cambyses  and  the 
wife  of  the  murdered  Gomata-Smerdis,  and  who  was 
now  the  wife  of  Darius,  looked  down  and  was  silent, 
turning  over  in  her  beautiful  hands  the  sealed  scroll 
she  bore. 

The  sun  had  risen  higher  while  they  talked,  and 
his  rays  were  growing  hot  in  the  clear  air.  The  mist 
had  lifted  from  the  city  below,  and  all  the  streets  and 
open  places  were  alive  with  noisy  buyers  and  sellers, 
whose  loud  talking  and  disputing  came  up  in  a  con- 
tinuous hum  to  the  palace  on  the  hill,  like  the  drone 
of  a  swarm  of  bees.     The  queen  rose  from  her  seat. 

"  It  is  too  warm  here,"  she  said,  and  she  once  more 
moved  toward  the  stairway.  Zoroaster  followed  her 
respectfully,  still  holding  his  helmet  in  his  hand. 
Atossa  did  not  speak  till  she  reached  the  threshold. 
Then,  as  Zoroaster  bowed  low  before  her,  she  paused 
and  looked  at  him  with  her  clear,  deep-blue  eyes. 

"  You  have  grown  very  formal  in  four  years,"  she 
said  softly.  "  You  used  to  be  more  outspoken  and 
less  of  a  courtier.  I  am  not  changed  —  we  must  be 
friends  as  we  were  formerly." 

Zoroaster  hesitated  a  moment  before  he  answered: 
"  I  am  the  Great  King's  man,"  he  said  slowly.    "  I 
am,  therefore,  also  the  queen's  servant." 

Atossa  raised  her  delicate  eyebrows  a  little  and  a 
shade  of  annoyance  passed  for  the  first  time  over  her 
perfect  face,  which  gave  her  a  look  of  sternness. 
"  I  am  the  queen,"  she  said  coldly.     "  The  king 


ZOKOASTER.  85 

maj  take  other  wives,  but  I  am  the  queen.  Take 
heed  that  you  be  indeed  my  servant."  Then,  as  she 
gathered  her  mantle  about  her  and  put  one  foot  upon 
the  stairs,  she  touched  his  shoulder  gently  with  the 
tips  of  her  fingers  and  added  with  a  sudden  smile, 
"  And  I  will  be  your  friend."  So  she  passed  down 
the  stairs  out  of  sight,  leaving  Zoroaster  alone. 

Slowly  he  paced  the  terrace  again,  reflecting  pro- 
foundly upon  his  situation.  Indeed  he  had  no  small 
cause  for  anxiety  ;  it  was  evident  that  the  queen  sus- 
pected his  love  for  Nehushta,  and  he  was  more  than 
half  convinced  that  there  were  reasons  why  such  an 
affection  would  inevitably  meet  with  her  disapproval. 
In  former  days,  before  she  was  married  to  Cambyses, 
and  afterwards,  before  Zoroaster  had  been  sent  into 
Media,  Atossa  had  shown  so  marked  a  liking  for  him, 
that  a  man  more  acquainted  with  the  world,  would 
have  guessed  that  she  loved  him.  He  had  not  sus- 
pected such  a  thing,  but  with  a  keen  perception  of 
character,  he  had  understood  that  beneath  the  beauti- 
ful features  and  the  frank  gentleness  of  the  young 
princess,  there  lurked  a  profound  intelligence,  an 
unbending  ambition  and  a  cold  selfishness  without 
equal ;  he  had  mistrusted  her,  but  he  had  humoured 
her  caprices  and  been  in  truth  a  good  friend  to  her, 
without  in  the  least  wishing  to  accept  her  friendship 
for  himself  in  return.  He  was  but  a  young  captain 
of  five  hundred  then,  although  he  was  the  favourite 
of  the  court ;  but  his  strong  arm  was  dreaded  as  well 
as  the  cutting  force  of  his  replies  when  questioned, 
and  no  word  of  the  court  gossip  had  therefore  reached 
his  ears  concerning  Atossa's  admiration  for  him.     It 


86  ZOROASTER. 

was,  moreover,  so  evident  that  lie  cared  nothing  for 
her  beyond  the  most  unaffected  friendliness,  that  her 
disappointment  in  not  moving  his  heart  was  a  con- 
stant source  of  satisfaction  to  her  enemies.  There 
had  reigned  in  those  days  a  great  and  unbridled 
license  in  the  court,  and  the  fact  of  the  daughter  of 
Cyrus  loving  and  being  loved  by  the  handsomest  of 
the  king's  guards,  would  not  of  itself  have  attracted 
overmuch  notice.  But  the  evident  innocence  of 
Zoroaster  in  the  whole  affair,  and  the  masterly 
fashion  in  which  Atossa  concealed  her  anger,  if  she 
felt  any,  caused  the  matter  to  be  completely  for- 
gotten as  soon  as  Zoroaster  left  Shushan,  and  events 
had,  since  then,  succeeded  each  other  too  rapidly  to 
give  the  courtiers  leisure  for  gossiping  about  old 
scandals.  The  isolation  in  which  Gomata  had  lived 
during  the  seven  months  while  he  maintained  the 
popular  impression  that  he  was  not  Gomata-Smerdis, 
but  Smerdis  the  brother  of  Cambyses,  had  broken  up 
the  court ;  and  the  strong,  manly  character  of  Darius 
had  checked  the  license  of  the  nobles  suddenly,  as  a 
horse-breaker  brings  up  an  unbroken  colt  by  flinging 
the  noose  about  his  neck.  The  king  permitted  that 
the  ancient  custom  of  marrying  as  many  as  foui 
wives  should  be  maintained,  and  he  himself  soon  set 
an  example  by  so  doing ;  but  he  had  determined  that 
the  whole  corrupt  fabric  of  court  life  should  be  shat- 
tered at  one  blow ;  and  with  his  usual  intrepid  dis- 
regard of  consequences  and  his  iron  determination  to 
maintain  his  opinions,  he  had  suffered  no  contradic- 
tion of  his  will.  He  had  married  Atossa,  —  in  the 
first  place,  because  she  was  the  most  beautiful  woman 


ZOROASTER.  87 

in  Persia;  and  secondly,  because  he  comprehended 
her  great  intelligence  and  capacity  for  affairs,  and 
believed  himself  able  to  make  use  of  her  at  his 
pleasure.  As  for  Atossa  herself,  she  had  not  hesi- 
tated a  moment  in  concurring  in  the  marriage,  —  she 
had  ruled  her  former  husbands,  and  she  would  rule 
Darius  in  like  manner,  she  thought,  to  her  own  com- 
plete aggrandisement  and  in  the  face  of  all  rivals.  As 
yet,  the  king  had  taken  no  second  wife,  although  he 
looked  with  growing  admiration  upon  the  maiden 
Artyston^,  who  was  then  but  fifteen  years  of  age, 
the  youngest  daughter  of  Cyrus  and  own  sister  to 
Atossa. 

All  this  Zoroaster  knew,  and  he  recognised  also 
from  the  meeting  he  had  just  had  with  the  queen, 
that  she  was  desirous  of  maintaining  her  friendship 
with  himself.  But  since  the  violent  scene  of  the  pre- 
vious night,  he  had  determined  to  be  the  king's  man 
in  truest  loyalty,  and  he  feared  lest  Atossa's  plans 
might,  before  long,  cross  her  husband's.  Therefore 
he  accepted  her  offer  of  friendship  coldly,  and  treated 
her  with  the  most  formal  courtesy.  On  the  other 
hand,  he  understood  well  enough  that  if  she  resented 
his  manner  of  acting  towards  her,  and  ascertained  that 
he  really  loved  Nehushta,  it  would  be  in  her  poAver  to 
produce  difficulties  and  complications  which  he  would 
have  every  cause  for  fearing.  She  would  certainly 
discover  the  king's  admiration  for  Nehushta.  Darius 
was  a  man  almost  incapable  of  concealment;  with 
whom  to  think  was  to  act  instantly  and  without  hesi- 
tation. He  generally  acted  rightly,  for  his  instincts 
were  noble  and  kingly,  and  his  heart  as  honest  and 


88  ZOROASTER. 

open  as  the  very  light  of  day.  He  said  what  he 
thought  and  instantly  fulfilled  liis  words.  He  hated 
a  lie  as  poison,  and  the  only  untruth  he  had  ever  been 
guilty  of  was  told  when,  in  order  to  gain  access  to  the 
dwelling  of  the  false  Smerdis,  he  had  declared  to  the 
guards  that  he  brought  news  of  importance  from  his 
father.  He  had  justified  this  falsehood  by  the  most 
elaborate  and  logical  apology  to  his  companions,  the 
six  princes,  and  had  explained  that  he  only  lied  for 
the  purpose  of  saving  Persia ;  and  when  the  lot  fell 
to  himself  to  assume  the  royal  authority,  he  fulfilled 
most  amply  every  promise  he  had  given  of  freeing  the 
country  from  tyranny,  religious  despotism  and,  gen- 
erally, from  what  he  termed  "  lies."  As  for  the  kill- 
ing of  Gomata-Smerdis,  it  was  an  act  of  public  justice, 
approved  by  all  sensible  persons  as  soon  as  it  was 
known  by  what  frauds  that  impostor  had  seized  the 
kingdom. 

With  regard  to  Atossa,  Darius  had  abstained  from 
asking  her  questions  about  her  seven  months  of 
marriage  with  the  usurper.  She  must  have  known 
well  enough  who  the  man  was,  but  Darius  understood 
her  character  well  enough  to  know  that  she  would 
marry  whomsoever  she  saw  in  the  chief  ]3lace,  and 
that  her  counsel  and  courage  would  be  of  inestimable 
advantage  to  a  ruler.  She  herself  never  mentioned 
the  past  events  to  the  king,  knowing  his  hatred  of  lies 
on  the  one  hand,  and  that  on  the  other,  the  plain  truth 
would  redound  to  her  discredit.  He  had  given  her  to 
understand  as  much  from  the  first,  telling  her  that  he 
took  her  for  what  she  was,  and  not  for  what  she  had 
been.     Her  mind  was  at  rest  about  the  past,  and  as 


ZOROASTER.  89 

for  the  future,  she  promised  herself  her  full  share  in 
her  husband's  success,  should  he  succeed,  and  un- 
bounded liberty  in  the  choice  of  his  successor,  should 
he  fail. 

But  all  these  considerations  did  not  tend  to  clear 
Zoroaster's  vision  in  regard  to  his  own  future.  He 
saw  himself  already  placed  in  a  position  of  extreme 
difficulty  between  Nehushta  and  the  king.  On  the 
other  hand,  he  dreaded  lest  he  should  before  long  fall 
into  disgrace  with  the  king  on  account  of  Atossa's 
treatment  of  himself,  or  incur  Atossa's  displeasure 
through  the  great  favour  he  received  from  Darius. 
He  knew  the  queen  to  be  an  ambitious  woman,  capa- 
ble of  the  wildest  conceptions,  and  possessed  of  the 
utmost  skill  for  their  execution. 

He  longed  to  see  Nehushta  and  talk  with  her  at 
once,  —  to  tell  her  many  tilings  and  to  warn  her  of 
many  possibilities;  above  all,  he  desired  to  discuss 
with  her  the  scene  of  the  previous  night  and  the 
strangely  sudden  determination  the  king  had  expressed 
to  make  her  his  wife. 

But  he  could  not  leave  his  post.  His  orders  had 
been  to  await  the  king  in  the  morning  upon  the  east- 
ern terrace ;  and  there  he  must  abide  until  it  pleased 
Darius  to  come  forth ;  and  he  knew  Nehushta  would 
not  venture  down  into  that  part  of  the  palace.  He 
wondered  that  the  king  did  not  come,  and  he  chafed 
at  the  delay  as  he  saw  the  sun  rising  higher  and  higher, 
and  the  shadows  deepening  in  the  terrace.  Weary 
of  waiting  he  sat  down  at  last  upon  the  chair  where 
Atossa  had  rested,  and  folded  his  hands  over  his  sword- 
hilt,  —  resigning  himself  to  the  situation  with  the 
philosophy  of  a  trained  soldier. 


90  ZOROASTER. 

Sitting  thus  alone,  he  fell  to  dreaming.  As  he 
gazed  out  at  the  bright  sky,  he  forgot  his  life  and 
his  love,  and  all  things  of  the  present ;  and  his  mind 
wandered  away  among  the  thoughts  most  natural  and 
most  congenial  to  his  profound  intellect.  His  atten- 
tion became  fixed  in  the  contemplation  of  a  larger 
dimension  of  intelligences,  —  the  veil  of  darkness 
parted  a  little,  and  for  a  time  he  saw  clearly  in  the 
light  of  a  Greater  Universe. 


ZOROASTER.  91 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Atossa  quitted  the  terrace  where  she  had  been 
talking  with  Zoroaster,  in  the  full  intention  of  re- 
turning speedily,  but  as  she  descended  the  steps,  a 
plan  formed  itself  in  her  mind,  which  she  determined 
to  put  into  immediate  execution.  Instead,  therefore, 
of  pursuing  her  way  into  the  portico  of  the  inner 
court,  when  she  reached  the  foot  of  the  staircase,  she 
turned  into  a  narrow  passage  that  led  into  a  long 
corridor,  lighted  only  by  occasional  small  openings 
in  the  wall.  A  little  door  gave  access  to  this  cov- 
ered way,  and  when  she  entered,  she  closed  it  behind 
her,  and  tried  to  fasten  it.  But  the  bolt  was  rusty, 
and  in  order  to  draw  it,  she  laid  down  the  scroll  she 
carried,  upon  a  narrow  stone  seat  by  the  side  of  the 
door }  and  then,  with  a  strong  effort  of  both  her  small 
white  hands,  she  succeeded  in  moving  the  lock  into 
its  place.  Then  she  turned  quickly  and  hastened 
down  the  dusky  corridor.  At  the  opposite  end  a 
small  winding  stair  led  upwards  into  darkness.  There 
were  stains  upon  the  lowest  steps,  just  visible  in  the 
half  light.  Atossa  gathered  up  her  mantle  and  her 
under  tunic,  and  trod  daintily,  with  a  look  of  repug- 
nance on  her  beautiful  face.  The  stains  were  made 
by  the  blood  of  the  false  Smerdis,  her  last  husband, 
slain  in  that  dark  stairway  by  Darius,  scarcely  three 
months  before. 


92  ZOROASTER. 

Cautiously  the  queen  felt  her  way  upward  till  she 
reached  a  landing,  where  a  narrow  aperture  admitted 
a  little  light.  Higher  up  there  were  windows,  and 
she  looked  carefully  to  her  dress,  and  brushed  away 
a  little  dust  that  her  mantle  had  swept  from  the  wall 
in  passing ;  and  once  or  twice,  she  looked  back  at 
the  dark  staircase  with  an  expression  of  something 
akin  to  disgust.  At  last  she  reached  a  door  which 
opened  upon  a  terrace,  much  like  the  one  where  she 
had  left  Zoroaster  a  few  moments  before,  saving  that 
the  floor  was  less  polished,  and  that  the  spaces  be- 
tween the  columns  were  half  filled  with  hanging 
plants  and  creepers.  Upon  the  pavement  at  one  end 
were  spread  rich  carpets,  and  half  a  dozen  enormous 
cushions  of  soft-coloured  silk  were  thrown  negligently 
one  upon  the  other.  Three  doors,  hung  with  curtains, 
opened  upon  the  balcony,  —  and  near  to  the  middle 
one,  two  slave-girls,  clad  in  white,  crouched  upon 
their  heels  and  talked  in  an  undertone. 

Atossa  stepped  forward  upon  the  marble,  and  the 
rustle  of  her  dress  and  the  quick  short  sound  of  her 
heeled  shoes,  roused  the  two  slave-girls  to  spring  to 
their  feet.  They  did  not  know  the  queen,  but  they 
thought  it  best  to  make  a  low  obeisance,  while  their 
dark  eyes  endeavoured  quickly  to  scan  the  details  of 
her  dress,  without  exhibiting  too  much  boldness. 
Atossa  beckoned  to  one  of  them  to  come  to  her, 
and  smiled  graciously  as  the  dark-skinned  girl 
approached. 

"  Is  not  thy  mistress  Nehushta  ?  "  she  inquired ; 
but  the  girl  looked  stupidly  at  her,  not  comprehend- 
ing her  speech.     "  Nehushta,"  repeated   the   queen. 


ZOROASTER.  93 

pronouncing  the  name  very  distinctly  with  a  ques- 
tioning intonation,  and  pointing  to  the  curtained 
door.  The  slave  understood  the  name  and  the  ques- 
tion, and  quick  as  thought,  she  disappeared  within, 
leaving  Atossa  in  some  hesitation.  She  had  not  in- 
tended to  send  for  the  Hebrew  princess,  for  she 
thought  it  would  be  a  greater  compliment  to  let 
Nehushta  find  her  waiting ;  but  since  the  barbarian 
slave  had  gone  to  call  her  mistress,  there  was  nothing 
to  be  done  but  to  abide  the  result. 

Nehushta,  however,  seemed  in  no  hurry  to  an- 
swer the  summons,  for  the  queen  had  ample  time  to 
examine  the  terrace,  and  to  glance  through  the  hang- 
ing plants  at  the  sunlit  meadows  and  the  flowing 
stream  to  southward,  before  she  heard  steps  behind 
the  curtain,  and  saw  it  lifted  to  allow  the  princess  to 
pass. 

The  dark  maiden  was  now  fully  refreshed  and 
rested  from  the  journey,  and  she  came  forward  to 
greet  her  guest  in  her  tunic,  without  her  mantle,  a 
cloud  of  soft  white  Indian  gauze  loosely  pinned  upon 
her  black  hair  and  half  covering  her  neck.  Her 
bodice-like  belt  was  of  scarlet  and  gold,  and  from  one 
side  there  hung  a  rich-hilted  knife  of  Indian  steel  in 
a  jewelled  sheath.  The  long  sleeves  of  her  tunic 
were  drawn  upon  her  arms  into  hundreds  of  minute 
folds,  and  where  the  delicate  stuff  hung  in  an  oblong 
lappet  over  her  hands,  there  was  fine  needlework 
and  embroidery  of  gold.  She  moved  easily,  with  a 
languid  grace  of  secure  motion ;  and  she  bent  her 
head  a  little  as  Atossa  came  quickly  to  meet  her. 

The  queen's  frank  smile  was  on  her  face  as  she 


94  ZOEOASTER. 

grasped  both  Nehushta's  hands  in  cordial  welcome, 
and  for  a  moment,  the  two  women  looked  into  each 
other's  eyes.  Nehushta  had  made  up  her  mind  to  hate 
Atossa  from  the  first,  but  she  did  not  belong  to  that 
class  of  women  who  allow  their  feelings  to  show 
themselves,  and  afterwards  feel  bound  by  the  mem- 
ory of  what  they  have  shown.  She,  too,  smiled  most 
sweetly  as  she  surveyed  the  beautiful  fair  queen 
from  beneath  her  long  drooping  lids,  and  examined 
her  appearance  with  all  possible  minuteness.  She 
remembered  her  well  enough,  but  so  warm  was  the 
welcome  she  received,  that  she  almost  thought  she 
had  misjudged  Atossa  in  calling  her  hard  and  cold. 
She  drew  her  guest  to  the  cushions  upon  the  carpets, 
and  they  sat  down  side  by  side. 

"  I  have  been  talking  about  you  already  this  morn- 
ing, my  princess,"  began  Atossa,  speaking  at  once  in 
familiar  terms,  as  though  she  were  conversing  with 
an  intimate  friend.  Nehushta  was  very  proud ;  she 
knew  herself  to  be  of  a  race  as  royal  as  Atossa, 
though  now  almost  extinct ;  and  in  answering,  she 
spoke  in  the  same  manner  as  the  queen ;  so  that  the 
latter  was  inwardly  amused  at  the  self-confidence  of 
the  Hebrew  princess. 

"Indeed?"  said  Nehushta,  "there  must  be  far 
more  interesting  things  than  I  in  Shushan.  I  would 
have  talked  of  you  had  I  found  any  one  to  talk 
with." 

The  queen  laughed  a  little. 

"  As  I  was  coming  out  this  morning,  I  met  an  old 
friend  of  mine  upon  the  balcony  before  the  king'^ 
apartment,  —  Zoroaster,  the  handsome  captain.     We 


ZOROASTER.  95 

fell  into  conversation,  How  handsome  he  has  grown 
since  I  saw  him  last !  "  The  queen  watched  Nehushta 
closely  while  affecting  the  greatest  unconcern,  and 
she  thought  the  shadows  about  the  princess's  eyes 
turned  a  shade  darker  at  the  mention  of  the  brilliant 
warrior.     But  Nehushta  answered  calmly  enough : 

"  He  took  the  most  excellent  care  of  us.  I  should 
like  to  see  him  to-day,  to  thank  him  for  all  he  did.  I 
was  tired  last  night  and  must  have  seemed  ungrate- 
ful." 

"What  need  is  there  of  ever  telling  men  we  are 
grateful  for  what  they  do  for  us?"  returned  the 
queen.  "  I  should  think  there  were  not  a  noble  in  the 
Great  King's  guard  who  would  not  give  his  right 
hand  to  take  care  of  you  for  a  month,  even  if  you 
never  so  mucli  as  noticed  his  existence." 

Nehushta  laughed  lightly  at  the  compliment. 

"You  honour  me  too  much,"  she  said,  "but  I  sup- 
pose it  is  because  most  women  think  as  you  do  that 
men  call  us  so  ungrateful.  I  think  you  judge  from 
the  standpoint  of  the  queen,  whereas  I " 

"  Whereas  you  look  at  things  from  the  position  of 
the  beautiful  princess,  who  is  worshipped  for  herself 
alone,  and  not  for  the  bounty  and  favour  she  may,  or 
may  not,  dispense  to  her  subjects." 

"  The  queen  is  dispensing  much  bounty  and  fa- 
vour to  one  of  her  subjects  at  this  very  moment," 
answered  Nehushta  quietly,  as  though  deprecating 
further  flattery. 

"  How  glad  you  must  be  to  have  left  that  dreadful 
fortress  at  last!"  cried  the  queen  sympathetically. 
"  My  father  used  to  go  there  every  summer.     I  hated 


96  ZOROASTER. 

the  miserable  place,  with  those  tiresome  mountains 
and  those  endless  gardens  without  the  least  variety 
in  them.  You  must  be  very  glad  to  have  come 
here !  " 

"It  is  true,"  replied  Nehushta,  "I  never  ceased  to 
dream  of  Shushan.  I  love  the  great  city,  and  the 
people,  and  the  court.  I  thought  sometimes  that  I 
should  have  died  of  the  weariness  of  Ecbatana.  The 
winters  were  unbearable  !  " 

"  You  must  learn  to  love  us,  too,"  said  Atossa,  very 
sweetly.  "  The  Great  King  mshes  well  to  your  race, 
and  will  certainly  do  much  for  your  country.  There 
is,  moreover,  a  kinsman  of  yours,  who  is  coming  soon, 
expressly  to  confer  with  the  king  concerning  the  fur- 
ther rebuilding  of  the  temple  and  the  city  of  Jeru- 
salem." 

"  Zorobabel  ?  "  asked  Nehushta,  quickly. 

uYes — that  is  his  name,  I  believe.  Do  you  say 
Zerub-Ebel,  or  Zerub-Abel  ?  I  know  nothing  of  your 
language." 

"His  name  is  Zorob-Abel,"  answered  Nehushta. 
"  Oh,  I  wish  he  might  persuade  the  Great  King  to  do 
something  for  my  people !  Your  father  would  have 
done  so  much  if  he  had  lived." 

"  Doubtless  the  Great  King  will  do  all  that  is  pos- 
sible for  establishing  the  Hebrews  and  promoting 
their  welfare,"  said  the  queen ;  but  a  distant  look  in 
her  eyes  showed  that  her  thoughts  were  no  longer  con- 
centrated on  the  subject.  "  Your  friend  Zoroaster," 
she  added  presently,  "  could  be  of  great  service  to  you 
and  your  cause,  if  he  wished." 

"  i  would  that  he   were   a   Hebrew ! "   exclaimed 


ZOROASTER.  97 

Nehushta,  with  a  little  sigh,  which  did  not  escape 
Atossa. 

"  Is  he  not  ?  I  always  thought  that  he  had  secretly- 
embraced  your  faith.  With  his  love  of  study  and 
with  his  ideas,  it  seemed  so  natural." 

"  No,"  replied  Nehushta,  "  he  is  not  one  of  us,  nor 
will  he  ever  be.  After  all,  though,  it  is  perhaps  of 
little  moment  what  one  believes  when  one  is  so  just 
as  he." 

"  I  have  never  been  able  to  understand  the  impor- 
tance of  religion,"  said  the  beautiful  queen,  spreading 
her  white  hand  upon  the  purple  of  her  mantle,  and 
contemplating  its  delicate  outline  tenderly.  ''For 
my  own  part,  I  am  fond  of  the  sacrifices  and  the  mu- 
sic and  the  chants.  I  love  to  see  the  priests  go  up  to 
the  altar,  two  and  two,  in  their  white  robes,  —  and 
then  to  see  how  they  struggle  to  hold  up  the  bullock's 
head,  so  that  his  eyes  may  see  the  sun,  —  and  how 
the  red  blood  gushes  out  like  a  beautiful  fountain. 
Have  you  ever  seen  a  great  sacrifice?" 

"  Oh  yes !  I  remember  when  I  was  quite  a  little 
girl,  when  Cambyses  —  I  mean — when  the  king  came 
to  the  throne  — it  was  magnificent !  "  Nehushta  was 
not  used  to  hesitate  in  her  speech,  but  as  she  recalled 
the  day  when  Cambyses  was  made  king,  it  suddenly 
came  over  her  that  any  reminiscences  of  the  past  might 
be  painful  to  the  extraordinary  woman  by  her  side. 
But  Atossa  showed  no  signs  of  being  disturbed.  On 
the  contrary,  she  smiled  more  sweetly  than  ever, 
though  there  was  perhaps  a  slight  affectation  of  sad- 
ness in  her  voice  as  she  answered  : 

"  Do  not  fear  to  hurt  me  by  referring  to  those  times, 


98  ZOROASTER. 

dear  princess.  I  am  accustomed  to  speak  of  them  well 
enough.  Yes,  indeed  I  remember  that  great  day, 
with  the  bright  sun  shining  upon  the  procession,  and 
the  cars  with  four  horses  that  they  dedicated  to  the 
sun,  and  the  milk-white  horse  that  they  slaughtered 
upon  the  steps  of  the  temple.  How  I  cried  for  him, 
poor  beast !  It  seemed  so  cruel  to  sacrifice  a  horse  ! 
Even  a  few  black  slaves  would  have  been  a  more 
natural  offering,  or  a  couple  of  Scythians." 

"  I  remember,"  said  Nehushta,  somewhat  relieved 
at  the  queen's  tone.  "  Of  course  I  have  now  and 
then  seen  processions  in  Ecbatana,  but  Daniel  would 
not  let  me  go  to  the  temple.  They  say  Ecbatana  is 
very  much  changed  since  the  Great  King  has  not  gone 
there  in  summer.  It  is  very  quiet  —  it  is  given  over 
to  horse-merchants  and  grain-sellers,  and  they  bring 
all  the  salted  fish  there  from  the  Hyrcanian  sea,  so 
that  some  of  the  streets  smell  horribly." 

Atossa  laughed  at  the  description,  more  out  of 
courtesy  than  because  it  amused  her. 

"  In  my  time,"  she  answered,  "the  horse-market  was 
in  the  meadow  by  the  road  toward  Zagros,  and  the 
fish-sellers  were  not  allowed  to  come  within  a  f  arsang 
of  the  city.  The  royal  nostrils  were  delicate.  But 
everything  is  changed — here,  everywhere.  We  have 
had  several  —  revolutions — religious  ones,  I  mean  of 
course,  and  so  many  people  have  been  killed  that  there 
is  a  savour  of  death  in  the  air.  It  is  amazing  how 
much  trouble  people  will  give  themselves  about  the 
question  of  sacrificing  a  horse  to  the  sun,  or  a  calf  to 
Auramazda,  or  an  Ethiopian  to  Nabon  or  Ashtaroth  I 
And  these  Magians !     They  are  really  no  more  de- 


ZOROASTER.  99 

scendants  of  the  priests  in  the  Aiyan  home  than  I  am 
a  Greek.  Half  of  them  are  nearly  black  —  they  are 
Hindus  and  speak  Persian  with  an  accent.  They  be- 
lieve in  a  vast  number  of  gods  of  all  sizes  and  descrip- 
tions, and  they  sing  hymns,  in  which  they  say  that  all 
these  gods  are  the  same.  It  is  most  confusing,  and 
as  the  principal  part  of  their  chief  sacrifice  consists  in 
making  themselves  exceedingly  drunk  with  the  detest- 
able milkweed  juice  of  which  they  are  so  fond,  the 
performance  is  disgusting.  The  Great  King  began 
by  saying  that  if  they  wished  to  sacrifice  to  their  dei- 
ties, they  might  do  so,  provided  no  one  could  find 
them  doing  it ;  and  if  they  wished  to  be  drunk,  they 
might  be  drunk  when  and  where  they  pleased ;  but 
that  if  they  did  the  two  together,  he  would  crucify 
every  Magian  in  Persia.  His  argument  was  very 
amusing.  He  said  that  a  man  who  is  drunk  naturally 
speaks  the  truth,  whereas  a  man  who  sacrifices  to 
false  gods  inevitably  tells  lies ;  wherefore  a  man  who 
sacrifices  to  false  gods  when  he  is  drunk,  runs  the 
risk  of  telling  lies  and  speaking  the  truth  at  the  same 
time,  and  is  consequently  a  creature  revolting  to  logic, 
and  must  be  immediately  destroyed  for  the  good  of 
the  whole  race  of  mankind." 

Nehushta  had  listened  with  varying  attention  to 
the  queen's  account  of  the  religious  difiiculties  in  the 
kingdom,  and  she  laughed  at  the  Megoeric  puzzle  by 
which  Darius  justified  the  death  of  the  Magians.  But 
in  her  heart  she  longed  to  see  Zoroaster,  and  was 
weary  of  entertaining  her  royal  guest.  By  way  of 
diversion  she  clapped  her  hands,  and  ordered  the 
slaves  who  came  at  her  summons  to  bring  sweetmeats 
and  sherbet  of  crushed  fruit  and  snow. 


100  ZOROASTER. 

"Are  you  fond  of  hunting?"  asked  Atossa,  deli- 
cately taking  a  little  piece  of  white  fig-paste. 

"I  have  never  been  allowed  to  hunt,"  answered 
Nehushta.     "  Besides,  it  must  be  very  tiring." 

"  I  delight  in  it  —  the  fig-paste  is  not  so  good  as  it 
used  to  be  —  there  is  a  new  confectioner.  Darius 
considered  that  the  former  one  had  religious  convic- 
tions involving  the  telling  of  lies  —  and  this  is  the 
result !  We  are  fallen  low  indeed  when  we  cannot 
eat  a  Magian's  pastry !  I  am  passionately  fond  of 
hunting,  but  it  is  far  from  here  to  the  desert  and  the 
lions  are  scarce.  Besides,  the  men  who  are  fit  for 
lion-hunting  are  generally  engaged  in  hunting  their 
fellow-creatures." 

"  Does  the  Great  King  hunt  ?  "  inquired  Nehushta, 
languidly  sipping  her  sherbet  from  a  green  jade  gob- 
let, as  she  lay  among  her  cushions,  supporting  herself 
upon  one  elbow. 

"  Whenever  he  has  leisure.  He  will  talk  of  nothing 
else  to  you " 

"  Surely,"  interrupted  Nehushta,  with  an  air  of  per- 
fect innocence,  "  I  shall  not  be  so  far  honoured  as  that 
the  Great  King  should  talk  with  me  ?  " 

Atossa  raised  her  blue  eyes  and  looked  curiousl}^  at 
the  dark  princess.  She  knew  nothing  of  what  had 
passed  the  night  before,  save  that  the  king  had  seen 
Nehushta  for  a  few  moments,  but  she  knew  his  char- 
acter well  enough  to  imagine  that  his  frank  and,  as 
she  thought,  undignified  manner  might  have  struck 
Nehushta  even  in  that  brief  interview.  The  idea  that 
the  princess  was  already  deceiving  her  flashed  across 
her  mind.     She  smiled  more  tenderly  than  ever,  with 


ZOROASTER.  :  IQl 

a  little  added  air  of  sadness  that  gave  her  a  wonderful 
charm. 

"  Yes,  the  Great  King  is  very  gracious  to  the  ladies 
of  the  court,"  she  said.  "  You  are  so  beautiful  and  so 
different  from  them  all  that  he  will  certainly  talk  long 
with  you  after  the  banquet  this  evening  —  when  he  has 
drunk  much  wine."  The  last  words  were  added  with 
a  most  special  sweetness  of  tone. 

Nehushta's  face  flushed  a  little  as  she  drank  more 
sherbet  before  she  answered.  Then,  letting  her  soft 
dark  eyes  rest,  as  though  in  admiration,  upon  the 
queen's  face,  she  spoke  in  a  tone  of  gentle  depre- 
cation : 

"  Shall  a  man  prefer  the  darkness  of  night  to  the 
glories  of  risen  day? 
Or  shall  a  man  turn  from  the  lilies  to  pluck  the 
lowly  flower  of  the  field  f  " 

"You  know  our  poets,  too?"  exclaimed  Atossa, 
pleased  with  the  graceful  tone  of  the  compliment,  but 
still  looking  at  Nehushta  with  curious  eyes.  There 
was  a  self-possession  about  the  Hebrew  princess  that 
she  did  not  like  ;  it  was  as  though  some  one  had  sud- 
denly taken  a  quality  of  her  own  and  made  it  theirs 
and  displayed  it  before  her  eyes.  There  was  indeed 
this  difference,  that  while  Atossa's  calm  and  undis- 
turbed manner  was  generally  real,  Nehushta's  was  as- 
sumed, and  she  herself  felt  that,  at  any  moment,  it 
might  desert  her  at  her  utmost  need, 

"  So  you  know  our  poets  ?  "  repeated  the  queen,  and 
this  time  she  laughed  lightly.  ''Indeed  I  fear  the 
king  will  talk  to  you  more  than  ever,  for  he  loves 


1Q2  ZOEO  ASTER. 

poetry.  I  daresay  Zoroaster,  too,  has  repeated  many 
verses  to  you  in  the  winter  evenings  at  Ecbatanac 
He  used  to  know  endless  poetry  when  he  was  a  boy.'' 

This  time  Nehushta  looked  at  the  queen,  and  won- 
dered how  she,  who  could  not  be  more  than  two  or 
three  and  twenty  years  old,  although  now  married  to 
her  third  husband,  could  speak  of  having  known 
Zoroaster  as  a  boy,  seeing  that  he  was  past  thirty 
years  of  age.  She  turned  the  question  upon  the 
queen. 

*'  You  must  have  seen  Zoroaster  very  often  before 
he  left  Shushan,"  she  said.  "You  know  him  so 
well." 

"  Yes  — every  one  knew  him.  He  was  the  favourite 
of  the  court,  with  his  beauty  and  his  courage  and  his 
strange  affection  for  that  old  —  for  the  old  Hebrew 
prophet.  That  is  why  Cambyses  sent  them  both 
away,"  added  she  with  a  light  laugh.  "  They  were 
far  too  good,  both  of  them,  to  be  endured  among  the 
doings  of  those  times." 

Atossa  spoke  readily  enough  of  Cambyses.  Ne- 
hushta  wondered  whether  she  could  be  induced  to 
speak  of  Smerdis.  Her  supposed  ignorance  of  the 
true  nature  of  what  had  occurred  in  the  last  few 
months  would  permit  her  to  speak  of  the  dead  usurper 
with  impunity. 

"  I  suppose  there  have  been  great  changes  lately 
in  the  manners  of  the  court  —  during  this  last  year," 
suggested  Nehushta  carelessly.  She  pulled  a  raisin 
from  the  dry  stem,  and  tried  to  peel  it  with  her  deli- 
cate fingers. 

"  Indeed  there  have  been  changes,"  answered  Atossa, 


ZOROASTER.  103 

calmly.  "  A  great  many  things  that  used  to  be 
tolerated  will  never  be  heard  of  now.  On  the  whole, 
the  change  has  been  rather  in  relation  to  religion 
than  otherwise.  You  will  understand  that  in  one 
year  we  have  had  three  court  religions.  Cambyses 
sacrificed  to  Ashtaroth  —  and  I  must  say  he  made 
a  most  appropriate  choice  of  his  tutelary  goddess. 
Smerdis  "  —  continued  the  queen  in  measured  tones 
and  with  the  utmost  calmness  of  manner  —  "  Smerdis 
devoted  himself  wholly  to  the  worship  of  Indra,  who 
appeared  to  be  a  convenient  association  of  all  the 
most  agreeable  gods ;  and  the  Great  King  now  rules 
the  earth  by  the  grace  of  Auramazda.  I,  for  my 
part,  have  always  inclined  to  the  Hebrew  conception 
of  one  God  —  perhaps  that  is  much  the  same  as 
Auramazda,  the  All- Wise.     What  do  you  think  ?  " 

Nehushta  smiled  at  the  deft  way  in  which  the 
queen  avoided  speaking  of  Smerdis  by  turning  the 
conversation  again  to  religious  topics.  But  fearing 
another  lecture  on  the  comparative  merits  of  idolatry, 
human  sacrifice,  and  monotheism,  she  manifested  very 
little  interest  in  the  subject. 

"  I  daresay  it  is  the  same.  Zoroaster  always  says 
so,  and  that  was  the  one  point  that  Daniel  could  never 
forgive  him.  The  sun  is  coming  through  those  plants 
upon  your  head  —  shall  we  not  have  our  cushions 
moved  into  the  shade  at  the  other  end  ?  "  She  clapped 
her  hands  and  rose  languidly,  offering  her  hand  to 
Atossa.     But  the  queen  sprang  lightly  to  her  feet. 

"  I  have  stayed  too  long,"  she  said.  "  Come  with 
me,  dearest  princess,  and  we  will  go  out  into  the 
orange  gardens  upon  the  upper  terrace.     Perhaps," 


104  ZOROASTER. 

she  added,  adjusting  the  folds  of  her  mantle,  "we 
shall  find  Zoroaster  there,  or  some  of  the  princes,  or 
even  the  Great  King  himself.  Or,  perhaps,  it  would 
amuse  you  to  see  where  I  live?  " 

Neiiushta  received  her  mantle  from  her  slaves,  and 
one  of  them  brought  her  a  linen  tiara  in  place  of  the 
gauze  veil  she  had  twisted  about  her  hair.  But 
Atossa  would  not  permit  the  change. 

"  It  is  too  beautiful ! "  she  cried  enthusiastically. 
"  So  new  !  you  must  really  not  change  it." 

She  put  her  arm  around  Nehushta  affectionately 
and  led  her  towards  the  door  of  the  inner  staircase. 
Then  suddenly  she  paused,  as  though  recollecting 
herself. 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  I  will  show  you  the  way  I  came. 
It  is  shorter  and  you  should  know  it.  It  may  be  of 
use  to  you." 

So  they  left  the  balcony  by  the  little  door  that  was 
almost  masked  by  one  of  the  great  pillars,  and  de- 
scended the  dark  stairs.  Nehushta  detested  every 
sort  of  bodily  inconvenience,  and  inwardly  wished 
the  queen  had  not  changed  her  mind,  but  had  led 
her  by  an  easier  way. 

"  It  is  not  far,"  said  the  queen,  descending  rapidly 
in  front  of  her. 

"  It  is  dreadfully  steep,"  objected  Nehushta,  "  and 
I  can  hardly  see  my  way  at  all.  How  many  steps 
are  there?" 

"  Only  a  score  more,"  answered  the  queen's  voice, 
farther  down.  She  seemed  to  be  hurrying,  but  Ne- 
hushta had  no  intention  of  going  any  faster,  and  care- 
fully groped  her  way.     As  she  began  to  see  a  glim- 


ZOROASTER.  105 

mer  of  light  at  the  last  turn  of  the  winding  stair,  she 
heard  loud  voices  in  the  corridor  below.  With  the 
cautious  instinct  of  her  race,  she  paused  and  listened. 
The  hard,  quick  tones  of  an  angry  man  dominated 
the  rest. 


106  ZOKOASTEK. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Zoroaster  had  sat  for  nearly  an  hour,  his  eyes 
fixed  on  the  blue  sky,  his  thoughts  wandering  in  con- 
templation of  things  greater  and  higher  than  those  of 
earth,  when  he  was  roused  by  the  measured  tread  of 
armed  men  marching  in  a  distant  room.  In  an  in- 
stant he  stood  up,  his  helmet  on  his  head,  —  the  whole 
force  of  military  habit  bringing  him  back  suddenly  to 
the  world  of  reality.  In  a  moment  the  same  heavy 
curtain,  from  under  which  Atossa  had  issued  two 
hours  before,  was  drawn  aside,  and  a  double  file  of 
spearmen  came  out  upon  the  balcony,  ranging  them- 
selves to  right  and  left  with  well-drilled  precision. 
A  moment  more,  and  the  king  himself  appeared, 
walking  alone,  in  his  armour  and  winged  helmet,  his 
left  hand  upon  the  hilt  of  his  sword,  his  splendid 
mantle  hanging  to  the  ground  behind  his  shoulders. 
As  he  came  between  the  soldiers,  he  walked  more 
slowly,  and  his  dark,  deep-set  eyes  seemed  to  scan  the 
bearing  and  accoutrements  of  each  separate  spear- 
man. It  was  rarely  indeed,  in  those  early  days  of 
his  power,  that  he  laid  aside  his  breast-plate  for  the 
tunic,  or  his  helmet  for  the  tiara  and  royal  crown. 
In  his  whole  air  and  gait  the  character  of  the  soldier 
dominated,  and  the  look  of  the  conqueror  was  already 
in  his  face. 

Zoroaster  strode  forward  a  few  paces,  and  stood 


ZOROASTER.  107 

still  as  the  king  caught  sight  of  him,  preparing  to 
prostrate  himself,  according  to  the  ancient  custom. 
But  Darius  checked  him  by  a  gesture ;  turning  half 
round,  he  dismissed  the  guard,  who  filed  back  through 
the  door  as  they  had  come,  and  the  curtain  fell  behind 
them. 

"  I  like  not  these  elaborate  customs,"  said  the  king. 
'  A  simple  salutation,  the  hand  to  the  lips  and  fore- 
head—  it  is  quite  enough.  A  man  might  win  a 
battle  if  he  had  all  the  time  that  it  takes  him  to  fall 
down  at  my  feet  and  rise  up  again,  twenty  times  in  a 
day." 

As  the  king's  speech  seemed  to  require  no  answer, 
Zoroaster  stood  silently  waiting  for  his  orders.  Da- 
rius walked  to  the  balustrade  and  stood  in  the  full 
glare  of  the  sun  for  a  moment,  looking  out.  Then 
he  came  back  again. 

"  The  town  seems  to  be  quiet  this  morning,"  he 
said.  *'  How  long  did  the  queen  tarry  here  talking 
with  thee,  Zoroaster?" 

"  The  queen  talked  with  her  servant  for  the  space 
of  half  an  hour,"  answered  Zoroaster,  without  hesita- 
tion, though  he  was  astonished  at  the  suddenness 
and  directness  of  the  question. 

"  She  is  gone  to  see  thy  princess,"  continued  the 
king. 

"  The  queen  told  her  servant  it  was  yet  too  early 
to  see  Nehushta,"  remarked  the  warrior. 

"She  is  gone  to  see  her,  nevertheless,"  asserted 
Darius,  in  a  tone  of  conviction.  "  Now,  it  stands  in 
reason  that  when  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  the 
world  has  been   told  that  another  woman  is  come 


108  ZOROASTER. 

who  is  more  beautiful  than  she,  she  will  not  lose  a 
moment  in  seeing  her."  He  eyed  Zoroaster  curi- 
ously for  a  moment,  and  his  thick  black  beard  did 
not  altogether  hide  the  smile  on  his  face.  "  Come," 
he  added,  "  we  shall  find  the  two  together." 

The  king  led  the  way  and  Zoroaster  gravely  fol- 
lowed. They  passed  down  the  staircase  by  which 
the  queen  had  gone,  and  entering  the  low  passage, 
came  to  the  small  door  which  she  had  bolted  behind 
her  with  so  much  difficulty.  The  king  pushed  his 
weight  against  it,  but  it  was  still  fastened. 

"Thou  art  stronger  than  I,  Zoroaster,"  he  said, 
with  a  deep  laugh.     "  Open  this  door." 

The  young  warrior  pushed  heavily  against  the 
planks,  and  felt  that  one  of  them  yielded.  Then, 
standing  back,  he  dealt  a  heavy  blow  on  the  spot 
with  his  clenched  fist ;  a  second,  and  the  plank  broke 
in.  He  put  his  arm  through  the  aperture,  and  easily 
slipped  the  bolt  back,  and  the  door  flew  open.  The 
blood  streamed  from  his  hand. 

"That  is  well  done,"  said  Darius  as  he  entered. 
His  quick  eye  saw  something  white  upon  the  stone 
bench  in  the  dusky  corner  by  the  door.  He  stooped 
and  picked  it  up  quickly.  It  was  the  sealed  scroll 
Atossa  had  left  there  when  she  needed  both  her 
hands  to  draw  the  bolt.  Darius  took  it  to  one  of  the 
narrow  windows,  looked  at  it  curiously  and  broke 
the  seal.  Zoroaster  stood  near  and  wiped  the  blood 
from  his  bruised  knuckle. 

The  contents  of  the  scroll  were  short.  It  was  ad- 
dressed to  one  Phraortes,  of  Ecbatana  in  Media,  and 
contained  the  information  that  the  Great  King  had 


ZOROASTER.  109 

returned  in  triumph  from  Babylon,  having  subdued 
the  rebels  and  slain  many  thousands  in  two  battles. 
Furthermore,  that  the  said  Phraortes  should  give  in- 
stant information  of  the  queen's  affairs,  and  do  noth- 
ing in  regard  to  them  until  further  intimation  arrived. 

The  king  stood  a  moment  in  deep  thought.  Then 
he  walked  slowly  down  the  corridor,  holding  the  scroll 
loose  in  his  hand.  Just  at  that  instant  Atossa  emerged 
from  the  dark  staircase,  and  as  she  found  herself  face 
to  face  with  Darius,  she  uttered  an  exclamation  and 
stood  still. 

"  This  is  a  very  convenient  place  for  our  interview,'* 
said  Darius  quietly.  "  No  one  can  hear  us.  There- 
fore speak  the  truth  at  once."  He  held  up  the  scroll 
to  her  eyes. 

Atossa's  ready  wit  did  not  desert  her,  nor  did  she 
change  colour,  though  she  knew  her  life  was  in  the 
balance  with  her  words.  She  laughed  lightly  as  she 
spoke  : 

"  I  came  down  the  stairs  this  morning " 

"  To  see  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  the  world," 
interrupted  Darius,  raising  his  voice.  "You  have 
seen  her.  I  am  glad  of  it.  Why  did  you  bolt  the 
door  of  the  passage  ?  " 

"  Because  I  thought  it  unfitting  that  the  passage  to 
the  women's  apartments  should  be  left  open  when  so 
many  in  the  palace  know  the  way,"  she  answered 
readily  enough. 

"  Where  were  you  taking  this  letter  when  you  left 
it  at  the  door  ?  "  asked  the  king,  beginning  to  doubt 
whether  there  were  anything  wrong  after  all. 

"I  was  about  to  send  it  to  Ecbatana,"  answered 
Atossa  with  perfect  simplicity. 


110  Z'OROASTER. 

"  Who  is  this  Phraortes  ?  " 

"  He  is  the  governor  of  the  lands  my  father  gave 
me  for  my  own  in  Media.  I  wrote  him  to  tell  him  of 
the  Great  King's  victory,  and  that  he  should  send  me 
information  concerning  my  affairs,  and  do  nothing 
further  until  he  hears  from  me." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because  I  thought  it  possible  that  the  Great  King 
would  spend  the  summer  in  Ecbatana,  and  that  I 
should  therefore  be  there  myself  to  give  my  own 
directions.  I  forgot  the  letter  because  I  had  to  take 
both  hands  to  draw  the  bolt,  and  I  was  coming  back 
to  get  it.  Nehushta  the  princess  is  with  me—  she  is 
now  upon  the  staircase." 

The  king  looked  thoughtfully  at  liis  wife's  beautiful 

face. 

"  You  have  evidently  spoken  the  truth,"  he  said 
slowly.  "  But  it  is  not  always  easy  to  understand 
what  your  truth  signifies.  I  often  think  it  would  be 
much  wiser  to  strangle  you.  Say  you  that  Nehushta 
is  near  ?     Call  her,  then.     Why  does  she  tarry  ?  " 

In  truth  Nehushta  had  trembled  as  she  crouched 
upon  the  stairs,  not  knowing  whether  to  descend  or  to 
fly  up  the  steps  again.  As  she  heard  the  queen  pro- 
nounce her  name,  however,  she  judged  it  prudent  to 
seem  to  have  been  out  of  earshot,  and  with  quick, 
soft  steps,  she  went  up  till  she  came  to  the  lighted 
part,  and  there  she  waited. 

"  Let  the  Great  King  go  himself  and  find  her,"  said 
Atossa  proudly,  "  if  he  doubts  me  any  further."  She 
stood  aside  to  let  him  pass.  But  Darius  beckoned  to 
Zoroaster  to  go.     He  had  remained  standing  at  some 


ZOROASTER.  Ill 

distance,  an  unwilling  witness  to  the  royal  altercation 
that  had  taken  place  before  him ;  but  as  he  passed 
the  queen,  she  gave  him  a  glance  of  imploring  sad- 
ness, as  though  beseeching  his  sympathy  in  what  she 
was  made  to  suffer.  He  ran  quickly  up  the  steps  in 
spite  of  the  darkness,  and  found  Nehushta  waiting  by 
the  window  higher  up.  She  started  as  he  appeared, 
for  he  was  the  person  she  least  expected.  But  he 
took  her  quickly  in  his  arms,  and  kissed  her  passion- 
ately twice. 

"  Come  quickly,  my  beloved,"  he  whispered.  "  The 
king  waits  below." 

"I  heard  his  voice — and  then  I  fled,"  she  whis- 
pered hurriedly;  and  they  began  to  descend  again. 
"I  hate  her  —  I  knew  I  should,"  she  whispered,  as 
she  leaned  upon  his  arm.  So  they  emerged  into  the 
corridor,  and  met  Darius  waiting  for  them.  The 
queen  was  nowhere  to  be  seen,  and  the  door  at  the 
farther  extremity  of  the  narrow  way  was  wide  open. 

The  king  was  as  calm  as  though  nothing  had 
occurred;  he  still  held  the  open  letter  in  his  hand 
as  Nehushta  entered  the  passage,  and  bowed  herself 
before  him.  He  took  her  hand  for  a  moment,  and 
then  dropped  it ;  but  his  eyes  flashed  suddenly  and 
his  arm  trembled  at  her  touch. 

"  Thou  hadst  almost  lost  thy  way,"  he  said.  "  The 
palace  is  large  and  the  passages  are  many  and  devious. 
Come  now,  I  will  lead  thee  to  the  gardens.  There 
thou  canst  find  friends  among  the  queen's  noble 
women,  and  amusements  of  many  kinds.  Let  thy 
heart  delight  in  the  beauty  of  Shushan,  and  if  there 
is  anything  that  thou  desirest,  ask  and  I  will  give  it 
thee." 


112  ZOROASTER. 

Nehushta  bent  her  head  in  thanks.  The  only  thing 
she  desired  was  to  be  alone  for  half  an  hour  with 
Zoroaster  ;  and  that  seemed  difBcult. 

"  Thy  servant  desireth  what  is  pleasant  in  thy 
sight,"  she  answered.  And  so  they  left  the  passage 
by  the  open  door,  and  the  king  himself  conducted 
Nehushta  to  the  entrance  of  the  garden,  and  bade  the 
slave-woman  who  met  them  to  lead  her  to  the  pavilion 
where  the  ladies  of  the  palace  spent  the  day  in  the 
warm  summer  weather.  Zoroaster  knew  that  what- 
ever liberty  his  singular  position  allowed  him  in  the 
quarter  of  the  building  where  the  king  himself  lived, 
he  was  not  privileged  to  enter  that  place  which  was 
set  apart  for  the  noble  ladies.  Darius  hated  to  be 
always  surrounded  by  guards  and  slaves,  and  the  ter- 
races and  staircases  of  his  dwelling  were  generally 
totally  deserted,  —  only  small  detachments  of  spear- 
men guarding  jealously  the  main  entrances.  But  the 
remainder  of  the  palace  swarmed  with  the  gorgeously 
dressed  retinue  of  the  court,  wdth  slaves  of  every 
colour  and  degree,  from  the  mute  smooth-faced  Ethi- 
opian to  the  accomplished  Hebrew  scribes  of  the  great 
nobles ;  from  the  black  and  scantily-clad  fan-girls  to 
the  dainty  Greek  tirewomen  of  the  queen's  toilet, 
who  loitered  near  the  carved  marble  fountain  at  the 
entrance  to  the  gardens;  and  in  the  outer  courts, 
detachments  of  the  horsemen  of  the  guard  rubbed 
their  weapons,  or  reddened  their  broad  leather  bridles 
and  trappings  with  red  chalk,  or  groomed  the  horse 
of  some  lately  arrived  officer  or  messenger,  or  hung 
about  and  basked  in  the  sun,  with  no  clothing  but 
their  short-sleeved  linen  tunics  and  breeches,  discuss- 


ZOKOASTER.  113 

ing  the  affairs  of  the  nation  with  the  certainty  of 
decision  peculiar  to  all  soldiers,  high  and  low.  There 
was  only  room  for  a  squadron  of  horse  in  the  palace ; 
but  though  they  were  few,  they  were  the  picked  men 
of  the  guard,  and  every  one  of  them  felt  himself  as 
justly  entitled  to  an  opinion  concerning  the  position 
of  the  new  king,  as  though  he  were  at  least  a  general. 

But  Darius  allowed  no  gossiping  slaves  nor  wran- 
gling soldiers  in  his  own  dwelling.  There  all  was 
silent  and  apparently  deserted,  and  thither  he  led 
Zoroaster  again.  The  young  warrior  was  astonished 
at  the  way  in  which  the  king  moved  about  unattended, 
as  carelessly  as  though  he  were  a  mere  soldier  himself ; 
he  was  not  yet  accustomed  to  the  restless  independence 
of  character,  to  the  unceasing  activity  and  perfect  per- 
sonal fearlessness  of  the  young  Darius.  It  was  hard  to 
realise  that  this  simple,  hard-handed,  outspoken  man 
was  the  Great  King,  and  occupied  the  throne  of  the 
magnificent  and  stately  Cyrus,  who  never  stirred 
abroad  without  the  full  state  of  the  court  about  him ; 
or  that  he  reigned  in  the  stead  of  the  luxurious  Cam- 
byses,  who  feared  to  tread  upon  uncovered  marble,  or 
to  expose  himself  to  the  draught  of  a  staircase ;  and 
who,  after  seven  years  of  caring  for  his  body,  had 
destroyed  himself  in  a  fit  of  impotent  passion.  Darius 
succeeded  to  the  throne  of  Persia  as  a  lion  coming 
into  the  place  of  jackals,  as  an  eagle  into  a  nest  of 
crows  and  carrion  birds  —  untiring,  violent,  relentless 
and  brave. 

"  Knowest  thou  one  Phraortes,  of  Ecbatana  ?  "  the 
king  asked  suddenly  when  he  was  alone  with  Zo- 
roaster. 


114  ZOROASTER. 

"I  know  him,"  answered  the  prince.  "A  man 
rich  and  powerful,  full  of  vanity  as  a  peacock,  and 
of  wiles  like  a  serpent.  Not  noble.  He  is  the  son 
of  a  fish-vendor,  grown  rich  by  selling  salted  stur- 
geons in  the  market-place.  He  is  also  the  overseer 
of  the  queen's  farmlands  in  Media,  and  of  the  Great 
King's  horse-breeding  stables." 

"  Go  forth  and  bring  him  to  me,"  said  the  king 
shortly.  Without  a  word,  Zoroaster  made  a  brief 
salute  and  turned  upon  his  heel  to  go.  But  it  was 
as  though  a  man  had  thrust  him  through  with  a 
knife.  The  king  gazed  after  him  in  admiration  of 
his  magnificent  obedience. 

"  Stay !  "  he  called  out.  "  How  long  wilt  thou  be 
gone  ?  " 

Zoroaster  turned  sharply  round  in  military  fashion, 
as  he  answered : 

"  It  is  a  hundred  and  fifty  farsangs  ^  to  Ecbatana. 
By  the  king's  relays  I  can  ride  there  in  six  days,  and 
I  can  bring  back  Phraortes  in  six  days  more  —  if  he 
die  not  of  the  riding,"  he  added,  with  a  grim  smile. 

"Is  he  old,  or  young?  Fat,  or  meagre?"  asked 
the  king,  laughing. 

"  He  is  a  man  of  forty  years,  neither  thin  nor  fat 
—  a  good  horseman  in  his  way,  but  not  as  we  are." 

"Bind  him  to  his  horse  if  he  falls  off  from  v/eari- 
ness.  And  tell  him  he  is  summoned  to  appear  before 
me.  Tell  him  the  business  brooks  no  delay.  Aura- 
mazda  be  with  thee  and  bring  thee  help.  Go  with 
speed." 

1  Between  five  and  six  hundred  English  miles.  South  American 
postilions  at  the  present  day  ride  six  hundred  miles  a  week  for  a 
bare  living. 


ZOROASTER.  115 

Again  Zoroaster  turned  and  in  a  moment  he  was 
gone.  He  had  sworn  to  be  the  king's  faithful  ser- 
vant, and  he  would  keep  his  oath,  cost  what  it  might, 
though  it  was  bitterness  to  him  to  leave  Nehushta 
without  a  word.  He  bethought  him  as  he  hastily 
put  on  light  garments  for  the  journey,  that  he  might 
send  her  a  letter,  and  he  wrote  a  few  words  upon  a 
piece  of  parchment,  and  folded  it  together.  As  he 
passed  by  the  entrance  of  the  garden  on  his  way  to 
the  stables,  he  looked  about  for  one  of  Nehushta's 
slaves ;  but  seeing  none,  he  beckoned  to  one  of  the 
Greek  tirewomen,  and  giving  her  a  piece  of  gold, 
bade  her  take  the  little  scroll  to  Nehushta,  the 
Hebrew  princess,  who  was  in  the  gardens.  Then  he 
went  quickly  on,  and  mounting  the  best  horse  in  the 
king's  stables,  galloped  at  a  break-neck  pace  down 
the  steep  incline.  In  five  minutes  he  had  crossed  the 
bridge,  and  was  speeding  over  the  straight,  dusty 
road  toward  Nineveh.  In  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  a 
person  watching  him  from  the  palace  would  have 
seen  his  flying  figure  disappearing  as  in  a  tiny  speck 
of  dust  far  out  upon  the  broad,  green  plain. 

But  the  Greek  slave-woman  stood  with  Zoroaster's 
letter  in  her  hand  and  held  the  gold  piece  he  had 
given  her  in  her  mouth,  debating  what  she  should  do. 
She  was  one  of  the  queen's  women,  as  it  chanced,  and 
she  immediately  reflected  that  she  might  turn  the 
writing  to  some  better  account  than  by  delivering  it 
to  Nehushta,  whom  she  had  seen  for  a  moment  that 
morning  as  she  passed,  and  whose  dark  Hebrew 
face  displeased  the  frivolous  Greek,  for  some  hidden 
reason.   She  thought  of  giving  the  scroll  to  the  queen, 


116  ZOROASTER. 

but  then  she  reflected  that  she  did  not  know  what  it 
contained.  The  words  were  written  hastily  and  in 
the  Chaldean  character.  Their  import  might  dis- 
please her  mistress.  The  woman  was  not  a  new- 
comer, and  she  knew  Zoroaster's  face  well  enough 
from  former  times ;  she  knew  also,  or  suspected,  that 
the  queen  secretly  loved  him,  and  she  argued  from 
the  fact  of  Zoroaster,  who  was  dressed  for  a  journey, 
sending  so  hastily  a  word  to  Nehushta,  that  he  loved 
the  Hebrew  princess.  Therefore,  if  the  letter  were  a 
mere  love  greeting,  with  no  name  written  in  it,  the 
queen  might  apply  it  to  herself,  and  she  would  be 
pleased ;  whereas,  if  it  were  in  any  way  clear  that 
the  writing  was  intended  for  Nehushta,  the  queen 
would  certainly  be  glad  that  it  should  never  be 
delivered.  The  result  of  this  cunning  argument  was 
that  the  Greek  woman  thrust  the  letter  into  her 
bosom,  and  the  gold  piece  into  her  girdle ;  and  went 
to  seek  an  opportunity  of  seeing  the  queen  alone. 

That  day,  towards  evening,  Atossa  sat  in  an  inner 
chamber  before  her  great  mirror ;  the  table  w^as  cov- 
ered with  jade  boxes,  silver  combs,  bowls  of  golden 
hairpins,  little  ivory  instruments,  and  all  the  appurte- 
nances of  her  toilet.  Two  or  three  magnificent  jewels 
lay  among  the  many  articles  of  use,  gleaming  in  the 
reflected  light  of  the  two  tall  lamps  that  stood  on 
bronze  stands  beside  her  chair.  She  was  fully  attired 
and  had  dismissed  her  women ;  but  she  lingered  a 
moment,  poring  over  the  little  parchment  scroll  her 
chief  hairdresser  had  slipped  into  her  hand  when  they 
were  alone  for  a  moment.  Only  a  black  fan-girl  stood 
a  few  paces  behind  her,  and  resting  the  stem  of  the 


ZOROASTER.  117 

long  palm  against  one  foot  thrust  forward,  swung  the 
broad  round  leaf  quickly  from  side  to  side  at  arm's 
length,  sending  a  constant  stream  of  fresh  air  upon 
her  royal  mistress,  just  below  the  level  of  the  lamps 
which  burned  steadily  above. 

The  queen  turned  the  small  letter  again  in  her 
hand,  and  smiled  to  herself  as  she  looked  into  the 
great  burnished  sheet  of  silver  that  surmounted  the 
table.  With  some  difficulty  she  had  mastered 
the  contents,  for  she  knew  enough  of  Hebrew  and 
of  the  Chaldean  character  to  comprehend  the  few 
simple  words. 

"  I  go  hence  for  twelve  days  upon  the  king's 
business.  My  beloved,  my  soul  is  with  thy  soul  and 
my  heart  with  thy  heart.  As  the  dove  that  goeth 
forth  in  the  morning  and  returneth  in  the  evening  to 
his  mate,  so  I  will  return  soon  to  thee." 

Atossa  knew  well  enough  that  the  letter  had  been 
intended  for  Nehushta.  The  woman  had  whispered 
that  Zoroaster  had  given  it  to  her,  and  Zoroaster 
would  never  have  written  those  words  to  herself ;  or, 
writing  anything,  would  not  have  written  in  the 
Hebrew  language. 

But  as  the  queen  read,  her  heart  rose  up  in  wrath 
against  the  Persian  prince  and  against  the  woman  he 
loved.  When  she  had  talked  with  him  that  morning, 
she  had  felt  her  old  yearning  affection  rising  again  in 
her  breast.  She  had  wondered  at  herself,  being  accus- 
tomed to  think  that  she  was  beyond  all  feeling  for 
man,  and  the  impression  she  had  received  from  her 
half-hour's  talk  with  him  was  so  strong,  that  she  had 
foolishly  delayed  sending  her  letter  to  Phraortes,  in 


118  ZOKOASTER. 

order  to  see  the  woraan  Zoroaster  admired,  and  had, 
in  her  absence  of  mind,  forgotten  the  scroll  upon  the 
seat  in  the  corridor,  and  had  brought  herself  into  such 
desperate  danger  through  the  discovery  of  the  missive, 
that  she  hardly  yet  felt  safe.  The  king  had  dismissed 
her  peremptorily  from  his  presence  while  he  waited 
for  Nehushta,  and  she  had  not  seen  him  during  the 
rest  of  the  day.  As  for  Zoroaster,  she  had  soon  heard 
from  her  women  that  he  had  taken  the  road  towards 
Nineveh  before  noon,  alone  and  almost  unarmed, 
mounted  upon  one  of  the  fleetest  horses  in  Persia. 
She  had  not  a  doubt  that  Darius  had  despatched  him 
at  once  to  Ecbatana  to  meet  Phraortes,  or  at  least  to 
inquire  into  the  state  of  affairs  in  the  city.  She  knew 
that  no  one  could  outride  Zoroaster,  and  that  there 
was  nothing  to  be  done  but  to  await  the  issue.  It  was 
not  possible  to  send  a  word  of  warning  to  her  agent 
—  he  must  inevitably  take  his  chance,  and  if  his  con- 
duct attracted  suspicion,  he  would,  in  all  probability, 
be  at  once  put  to  death.  She  believed  that,  even  in 
that  event,  she  could  easily  clear  herself;  but  she 
resolved,  if  possible,  to  warn  him  as  soon  as  he 
reached  Shushan,  or  even  to  induce  the  king  to  be 
absent  from  the  palace  for  a  few  days  at  the  time 
when  Phraortes  might  be  expected.  There  was 
plenty  of  time — at  least  eleven  days. 

Meanwhile,  a  desperate  struggle  was  beginning 
within  her,  and  the  letter  her  woman  had  brought  her 
hastened  the  conclusion  to  which  her  thoughts  were 
rapidly  tending. 

She  felt  keenly  the  fact  that  Zoroaster,  who  had 
been  so  cold  to  her  advances  in  former  days,  had 


ZOROASTER.  119 

preferred  before  her  a  Hebrew  woman,  and  was  now 
actually  so  deeply  in  love  with  Nehushta,  that  he 
could  not  leave  the  palace  for  a  few  days  without 
writing  her  a  word  of  love — he,  who  had  never  loved 
any  one !  She  fiercely  hated  this  dark  woman,  who 
was  preferred  before  her  by  the  man  she  secretly 
loved,  and  whom  the  king  had  brutally  declared  to 
be  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  the  world.  She 
longed  for  her  destruction  as  she  had  never  longed  for 
anything  in  her  life.  Her  whole  soul  rose  in  bitter 
resentment;  not  only  did  Zoroaster  love  this  black- 
eyed,  dark-browed  child  of  captivity,  but  the  king, 
who  had  always  maintained  that  Atossa  was  un- 
equalled in  the  world,  even  when  he  coldly  informed 
her  that  he  would  never  trust  her,  now  dared  to  say 
before  Zoroaster,  almost  before  Nehushta  herself,  that 
the  princess  was  the  more  beautiful  of  the  two.  The 
one  man  wounded  her  in  her  vanity,  the  other  in  her 
heart. 

It  would  not  be  possible  at  present  to  be  revenged 
upon  the  king.  There  was  little  chance  of  eluding 
his  sleepless  vigilance,  or  of  leading  him  into  any 
rash  act  of  self-destruction.  Besides,  she  knew  him 
too  well  not  to  understand  that  he  was  the  only  man 
alive  who  could  save  Persia  from  further  revolutions, 
and  keep  the  throne  against  all  comers.  She  loved 
power  and  the  splendour  of  her  royal  existence,  per- 
haps more  than  she  loved  Zoroaster.  The  idea  of 
another  change  in  the  monarchy  was  not  to  be 
thought  of,  now  that  Darius  had  subdued  Babylon. 
She  had  indeed  a  half-concerted  plan  with  Phraortes 
to  seize  the  power  in  Media  in  case  the  kino:  were 


120  ZOROASTER. 

defeated  in  Babylonia,  and  the  scroll  she  had  so 
imprudently  forgotten  that  very  morning  was  merely 
an  order  to  lay  aside  all  such  plans  for  the  present, 
since  the  king  had  returned  in  triumph. 

As  far  as  her  conscience  was  concerned,  Atossa 
would  as  soon  have  overthrown  and  murdered  the 
king  to  gratify  the  personal  anger  she  felt  against 
him  at  the  present  moment,  as  she  would  have  wrecked 
the  universe  to  possess  a  jewel  she  fancied.  There 
existed  in  her  mind  no  idea  of  proportion  between 
the  gratification  of  her  passions  and  the  means  sne 
might  employ  thereto ;  provided  one  gratification  did 
not  interfere  with  another  which  she  always  saw 
beyond.  Nothing  startled  her  on  account  of  its  mere 
magnitude ;  no  plan  was  rejected  by  her  merely  be- 
cause it  implied  ruin  to  a  countless  number  of  human 
beings  who  were  useless  to  her.  She  coldly  calcu- 
lated the  amount  of  satisfaction  she  could  at  any  time 
obtain  for  her  wishes  and  desires,  so  as  not  to  preju- 
dice the  gratification  of  all  the  possible  passions  she 
might  hereafter  experience. 

As  for  injuring  Zoroaster,  she  would  not  have 
thought  of  it.  She  loved  him  in  a  way  peculiar  to 
herself,  but  it  was  love,  nevertheless,  —  and  she  had 
no  idea  of  wreaking  her  disappointment  upon  the 
object  on  which  she  had  set  her  heart.  As  a  logical 
consequence,  she  determined  to  turn  all  her  anger 
against  Nehushta,  and  she  pictured  to  herself  the 
delicious  pleasure  of  torturing  the  young  princess's 
jealousy  to  desperation.  To  convince  Nehushta  that 
Zoroaster  was  deceiving  her,  and  really  loved  herself, 
the  queen ;  to  force  Zoroaster  into  some  position  where 


ZOROASTER.  121 

he  must  either  silently  let  Nehushta  believe  that  he 
was  attached  to  Atossa,  or,  as  an  alternative,  betray 
the  king's  secrets  by  speaking  the  truth ;  to  let 
Nehushta's  vanity  be  flattered  by  the  king's  admira- 
tion, —  nay,  even  to  force  her  into  a  marriage  with 
Darius,  and  then  by  suffering  her  again  to  fall  into 
her  first  love  for  Zoroaster,  bring  her  to  a  public  dis- 
grace by  suddenly  unmasking  her  to  the  king  —  to 
accomplish  these  things  surely  and  quickly,  reserving 
for  herself  the  final  delight  of  scoffing  at  her  worsted 
rival  —  all  this  seemed  to  Atossa  to  constitute  a  plan 
at  once  worthy  of  her  profound  and  scheming  intelli- 
gence, and  most  sweetly  satisfactory  to  her  injured 
vanity  and  rejected  love. 

It  would  be  hard  for  her  to  see  Nehushta  married 
to  the  king,  and  occupying  the  position  of  chief 
favourite  even  for  a  time.  But  the  triumph  would 
be  the  sweeter  when  Nehushta  was  finally  overthrown, 
and  meanwhile  there  would  be  much  daily  delight  in 
tormenting  the  princess's  jealousy.  Chance,  or  rather 
the  cunning  of  her  Greek  tirewoman,  had  thrown  a 
weapon  in  her  way  which  could  easily  be  turned  into 
an  instrument  of  torture,  and  as  she  sat  before  her 
mirror,  she  twisted  and  untwisted  the  little  bit  of 
parchment,  and  smiled  to  herself,  a  sweet  bright 
smile  —  and  leaned  her  head  back  to  the  pleasant 
breeze  of  the  fan. 


122  ZOROASTER. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

The  noonday  air  was  hot  and  dry  in  the  garden  of 
the  palace,  but  in  the  graceful  marble  pavilion  there 
was  coolness  and  the  sound  of  gently  plashing  water. 
Rose-trees  and  climbing  plants  screened  the  sunlight 
from  the  long  windows,  and  gave  a  soft  green  tinge 
to  the  eight-sided  hall,  where  a  fountain  played  in 
the  midst,  its  little  jet  falling  into  a  basin  hollowed 
in  the  floor.  On  the  rippling  surface  a  few  water- 
lilies  swayed  gently  with  the  constant  motion,  an- 
chored by  their  long  stems  to  the  bottom.  All  was 
cool  and  quiet  and  restful,  and  Nehushta  stood  look- 
ing at  the  fountain. 

She  was  alone  and  very  unhappy.  Zoroaster  had 
left  the  palace  without  a  word  to  her,  and  she  knew 
only  by  the  vague  reports  her  slaves  brought  her, 
that  he  was  gone  for  many  days.  Her  heart  sank  at 
the  thought  of  all  that  might  happen  before  he  re- 
turned, and  the  tears  stood  in  her  eyes. 

"  Are  you  here  alone,  dear  princess  ?  "  said  a  soft, 
clear  voice  behind  her.  Nehushta  started,  as  though 
something  had  stung  her,  as  she  recognised  Atossa's 
tones.  There  was  nothing  of  her  assumed  cordiality 
of  the  previous  day  as  she  answered.  She  was  too 
unhappy,  too  weary  of  the  thought  that  her  lover 
was  gone,  to  be  able  to  act  a  part,  or  pretend  a 
friendliness  she  did  not  feel. 


ZOROASTER.  123 

"Yes  —  I  am  alone,"  she  said  quietly. 

"  So  am  I,"  answered  Atossa,  her  blue  eyes  spark- 
ling with  the  sunshine  she  brought  in  with  her,  and 
all  her  wonderful  beauty  beaming,  as  it  were,  with 
an  overflowing  haj^piness.  "  The  ladies  of  the  court 
are  gone  in  state  to  the  city,  in  the  Great  King's 
train,  and  you  and  I  are  alone  in  the  palace.  How 
deliciously  cool  it  is  in  here." 

She  sat  down  upon  a  heap  of  cushions  by  one  of 
the  screened  windows  and  contemplated  Nehushta, 
who  still  stood  by  the  fountain. 

"You  look  sad  —  and  tired,  dearest  Nehushta," 
said  she  presently.  "Indeed  you  must  not  be  sad 
here  —  nobody  is  sad  here  I  " 

"  I  am  sad,"  repeated  Nehushta,  in  a  dreary,  monot- 
onous way,  as  though  scarcely  conscious  of  what  she 
was  saying.  There  was  a  moment's  silence  before 
Atossa  spoke  again. 

"  Tell  me  what  it  is,"  she  said  at  last,  in  persuasive 
accents.  "Tell  me  what  is  the  matter.  It  maybe 
thj),t  you  lack  something  —  that  you  miss  something 
you  were  used  to  in  Ecbatana.  Will  you  not  tell 
me,  dearest?" 

"  Tell  you  what  ?  "  asked  Nehushta,  as  though  she 
had  not  heard. 

"  Tell  me  what  it  is  that  makes  you  sad,"  repeated 
the  queen. 

"Tell  you?"  exclaimed  the  princess,  suddenly 
looking  up,  with  flashing  eyes,  "  tell  you  ?  oh  no  !  " 

Atossa  looked  a  little  sadly  at  Nehushta,  as  though 
hurt  at  the  want  of  confidence  she  showed.  But  the 
Hebrew  maiden  turned  away  and  went  and  looked 


124  ZOEOASTER. 

through  the  hanging  plants  at  the  garden  without. 
Then  Atossa  rose  softly  and  came  and  stood  behind 
her,  and  put  her  arm  about  her,  and  let  her  own  fair 
cheek  rest  against  the  princess's  dark  face.  Nehushta 
said  nothing,  but  she  trembled,  as  though  something 
she  hated  were  touching  her. 

"Is  it  because  your  friend  has  gone  away  sud- 
denly?" asked  Atossa  almost  in  a  whisper,  with  the 
sweetest  accent  of  sympathy.  Nehushta  started  a 
little. 

"  No  !  "  she  answered,  almost  fiercely.  "  Why  do 
you  say  that  ?  " 

"Only — he  wrote  me  a  little  word  before  he  went. 
I  thought  you  might  like  to  know  he  was  safe,"  re- 
plied the  queen,  gently  pressing  her  arm  about  Ne- 
hushta's  slender  waist. 

"  Wrote  to  you  ?  "  repeated  the  princess,  in  angry 
surprise. 

"  Yes,  dearest,"  answered  the  queen,  looking  down 
in  well-feigned  embarrassment.  "  I  would  not  have 
told  you,  only  I  thought  you  would  wish  to  hear  of 
him.  If  you  like,  I  will  read  you  a  part  of  what  he 
says,"  she  added,  pioducing  from  her  bosom  the  little 
piece  of  parchment  carefully  rolled  together. 

It  was  more  than  Nehushta  could  bear.  Her  olive 
skin  turned  suddenly  pale,  and  she  tore  herself  away 
from  the  queen. 

"  Oh  no  !  no  !  I  will  not  hear  it !  Leave  me  in 
peace  — for  your  gods'  sake,  leave  me  in  peace  !  " 

Atossa  drew  herself  up  and  stared  coldly  at  Ne- 
hushta, as  though  she  were  surprised  beyond  measure 
and  deeply  offended. 


ZOROASTER.  125 

"  Truly,  I  need  not  be  told  twice  to  leave  you  in 
peace,"  she  said  proudly.  "  I  thought  to  comfort 
you,  because  I  saw  you  were  sad  —  even  at  the  ex- 
pense of  my  own  feelings.  I  will  leave  you  now  — 
but  I  bear  no  malice  against  you.  You  are  very, 
very  young,  and  very,  very  foolish." 

Atossa  shook  her  head,  thoughtfully,  and  swept 
from  the  pavilion  in  stately  and  offended  dignity. 
But  as  she  walked  alone  through  the  garden,  she 
smiled  to  herself  and  softly  hummed  a  merry  melody 
she  had  heard  from  an  Egyptian  actor  on  the  previous 
evening.  Darius  had  brought  a  company  of  Egyp- 
tians from  Babylon,  and  after  the  banquet,  had  com- 
manded that  they  should  perform  their  music,  and 
dancing,  and  mimicry,  for  the  amusement  of  the 
assembled  court. 

Atossa's  sweet  voice  echoed  faintly  among  the 
orange  trees  and  the  roses,  as  she  went  towards  the 
palace,  and  the  sound  of  it  came  distantly  to  Ne- 
hushta's  ears.  She  stood  for  a  while  where  the  queen 
had  left  her,  her  face  pale  and  her  hands  wringing 
together ;  and  then,  with  a  sudden  impulse,  she  went 
and  threw  herself  upon  the  floor,  and  buried  her  head 
in  the  deep,  soft  cushions.  Her  hands  wandered  in 
the  wealth  of  her  black  hair,  and  her  quick,  hot  tears 
stained  the  delicate  silk  of  the  pillows. 

How  could  he  ?  How  was  it  possible  ?  He  said 
he  loved  her,  and  now,  when  he  was  sent  away  for 
many  days,  his  only  thought  had  been  to  write  to  the 
queen  —  not  to  herself  !  An  agony  of  jealousy  over- 
whelmed her,  and  she  could  have  torn  out  her  very 
soul,  and  trampled  her  own  heart  under  her  feet  in 


126  ZOEOASTER. 

her  anger.  Passionately  she  clasped  her  hands  to 
her  temples ;  her  head  seemed  splitting  with  a  new 
and  dreadful  pain  that  swallowed  all  her  thoughts 
for  a  moment,  until  the  cold  weight  seemed  again  to 
fall  upon  her  breast  and  all  her  passion  gushed  out  in 
abundant  tears.  Suddenly  a  thought  struck  her. 
She  roused  herself,  leaning  upon  one  hand,  and  stared 
vacantly  a  moment  at  her  small  gilded  shoe  which 
had  fallen  from  her  bare  foot  upon  the  marble  pave- 
ment. She  absently  reached  forward  and  took  the 
thing  in  her  hand,  and  gravely  contemplated  the 
delicate  embroidery  and  thick  gilding,  through  her 
tears,  —  as  one  will  do  a  foolish  and  meaningless 
thing  in  the  midst  of  a  great  sorrow. 

Was  it  possible  that  the  queen  had  deceived  her  ? 
How  she  wished  she  had  let  her  read  the  writing  as 
she  had  offered  to  do.  She  did  not  imagine  at  first 
that  the  letter  was  for  herself  and  had  gone  astray. 
But  she  thought  the  queen  might  easily  have  pre- 
tended to  have  received  something,  or  had  even 
scratched  a  few  words  upon  a  bit  of  parchment,  mean- 
ing to  pass  it  off  upon  her  as  a  letter  from  Zoroaster. 
She  longed  to  possess  the  thing  and  to  judge  of  it 
with  her  own  eyes.  ^  It  would  hardly  be  possible  to 
say  whether  it  were  written  by  him  or  not,  as  far  as 
the  handwriting  was  concerned;  but  Nehushta  was 
sure  she  should  recognise  some  word,  some  turn  of 
laneuacfe  that  would  assure  her  that  it  was  his.  She 
could  almost  have  risen  and  gone  in  search  of  the 
queen  at  once,  to  prove  the  lie  upon  her  —  to  chal- 
lenge her  to  show  the  writing.  But  her  pride  forbade 
her.     She  had  been  so  weak  —  she  should  not  have 


ZOEOASTER.  127 

let  Atossa  see,  even  for  a  moment,  that  she  was  hurt, 
not  even  that  she  loved  Zoroaster.  She  had  tried  to 
conceal  her  feelings,  but  Atossa  had  gone  too  far,  had 
tortured  her  beyond  all  endurance,  and  she  knew 
that,  even  if  she  had  known  what  to  expect,  she 
could  not  have  easily  borne  the  soft,  infuriating, 
deadly,  caressing,  goading  taunts  of  that  fair,  cruel 
woman. 

Then  again,  the  whole  possibility  of  Zoroaster's 
unfaithfulness  came  and  took  shape  before  her.  He 
had  known  and  loved  Atossa  of  old,  perhaps,  and 
now  the  old  love  had  risen  up  and  killed  the  new  — 
he  had  sworn  so  truly  under  the  ivory  moonlight  in 
Ecbatana.  And  yet  —  he  had  written  to  this  other 
woman  and  not  to  her.  Was  it  true  ?  Was  it  Atossa's 
cruel  lie  ?  In  a  storm  of  doubt  and  furious  passion, 
her  tears  welled  forth  again ;  and  once  more  she  hid 
her  face  in  the  pale  yellow  cushions,  and  her  whole 
beautiful  body  trembled  and  was  wrung  with  her 
sobs. 

Suddenly  she  was  aware  that  some  one  entered  the 
little  hall  and  stood  beside  her.  She  dared  not  look 
up  at  first ;  she  was  unstrung  and  wretched  in  her 
grief  and  anger,  and  it  was  the  strong,  firm  tread  of  a 
man.  The  footsteps  ceased,  and  the  intruder,  who- 
ever he  might  be,  was  standing  still ;  she  took  courage 
and  looked  quickly  up.  It  was  the  king  himself. 
Indeed,  she  mio-ht  have  known  that  no  other  man 
would  dare  to  penetrate  into  the  recesses  of  the 
garden  set  apart  for  the  ladies  of  the  palace. 

Darius  stood  quietly  gazing  at  her  with  an  expres- 
sion of  doubt  and  curiosity,  that  was  almost  amusing, 


128  ZOROASTER. 

on  his  stern,  dark  face.  Nehushta  was  friglitened, 
and  sprang  to  her  feet  with  the  graceful  quickness 
of  a  startled  deer.  She  was  indolent  by  nature,  but 
as  swift  as  light  when  she  was  roused  by  fear  or 
excitement. 

"  Are  you  so  unhappy  in  my  palace  ?  "  asked  Darius 
gently.  "Why  are  you  weeping?  Who  has  hurt 
you?" 

Nehushta  turned  her  face  away  and  dashed  the 
tears  from  her  eyes,  while  her  cheeks  flushed  hotly. 

"I  am  not  weeping — no  one  —  has  hurt  me,"  she 
answered,  in  a  voice  broken  rather  by  embarrassment 
and  annoyance,  than  by  the  sorrow  she  had  nearly 
forgotten  in  her  sudden  astonishment  at  being  face  to 
face  with  the  king. 

Darius  smiled,  and  almost  laughed,  as  he  stroked 
his  thick  beard  with  his  broad  brown  hand. 

"Princess,"  he  said,  "will  you  sit  down  again? 
I  will  deliver  you  a  discourse  upon  the  extreme  folly 
of  ever  telling"  —  he  hesitated  —  "of  saying  any- 
thing which  is  not  precisely  true." 

There  was  something  so  simple  and  honest  in  his 
manner  of  speaking,  that  Nehushta  almost  smiled 
through  her  half-dried  tears  as  she  sat  upon  the  cush- 
ions at  the  king's  feet.  He  himself  sat  down  upon 
the  broad  marble  seat  that  ran  round  the  eight-sided 
little  building,  and  composing  his  face  to  a  serious  ex- 
pression, that  was  more  than  half-assumed,  began  to 
deliver  his  lecture. 

"  I  take  it  for  granted  that  when  one  tells  a  lie,  he 
expects  to  be  believed.  There  must,  then,  be  some 
thing  or  circumstance  which  can  help  to  make  his  lies 


ZOROASTER.  129 

credible.  Now,  my  dear  princess,  in  the  present  in- 
stance, while  I  was  looking  you  in  the  face  and  count- 
ing the  tears  upon  your  very  beautiful  cheeks,  you 
deliberately  told  me  that  you  were  not  weeping. 
There  was,  therefore,  not  even  the  shadow  of  a  thing, 
or  circumstance  which  could  make  what  you  said 
credible.  It  is  evident  that  what  you  said  was  not 
true.     Is  it  not  so?" 

Nehushta  could  not  help  smiling  as  she  looked  up 
and  saw  the  kindly  light  in  the  king's  dark  eyes. 
She  thought  she  understood  he  was  amusing  her  for 
the  sake  of  giving  her  time  to  collect  herself,  and  in 
spite  of  the  determined  intention  of  marrying  her  he 
had  so  lately  expressed,  she  felt  safe  with  him. 

''The  king  lives  for  ever,"  she  answered,  in  the 
set  phrase  of  assent  common  at  the  court. 

"  It  is  very  probable,"  replied  Darius  gravely.  "  So 
many  people  say  so,  that  I  should  have  to  believe  all 
mankind  liars  if  that  were  not  true.  But  I  must 
return  to  your  own  particular  case.  It  would  have 
been  easy  for  you  not  to  have  said  what  you  did.  I 
must  therefore  suppose  that  in  going  out  of  the  way 
to  make  an  attempt  to  deceive  me  in  the  face  of  such 
evidence  —  by  saying  you  were  not  weeping  when  the 
tears  were  actually  falling  from  those  very  soft  eyes 
of  yours  —  you  had  an  object  to  gain.  Men  emploj 
truth  and  falsehood  for  much  the  same  reason:  A 
man  who  does  not  respect  truth  will,  therefore,  lie 
when  he  can  hope  to  gain  more  by  it.  The  man  who 
lies  expects  to  gain  something  by  his  lie,  and  the 
man  who  tells  the  truth  hopes  that,  in  so  doing,  he 
will  establish  himself  a  credit  which  he  can  use  upon 

K 


130  ZOROASTER. 

future  occasions.^  But  the  object  is  the  same.  Tell 
me,  therefore,  princess,  what  did  you  hope  to  gain  by 
trying  to  deceive  me  ?  "  Darius  laughed  as  he  con- 
cluded his  argument  and  looked  at  Nehushta  to  see 
what  she  would  say  —  Nehushta  laughed  also,  she 
could  hardly  tell  why.  The  king's  brilliant,  active 
humour  was  catching.  She  reached  out  and  thrust 
her  foot  into  the  little  slipper  that  still  lay  beside 
her,  before  she  answered. 

"What  I  said  was  true  in  one  way  and  not  in 
another,"  she  said.  "  I  had  been  crying  bitterly,  but 
I  stopped  when  I  heard  the  king  come  and  stand 
beside  me.  So  it  was  only  the  tears  the  king  saw  and 
not  the  weeping.  As  for  the  object,"  —  she  laughed 
a  little,  —  "  it  was,  perhaps,  that  I  might  gain  time  to 
dry  my  eyes." 

Darius  shifted  his  position  a  little. 

"  I  know,"  he  said  gravely.  "  And  I  know  why 
you  were  weeping,  and  it  is  my  fault.  Will  you  for- 
give me,  princess?  I  am  a  hasty  man,  not  accus- 
tomed to  think  twice  when  I  give  my  commands." 

Nehushta  looked  up  suddenly  with  an  expression 
of  inquiry. 

*'I  sent  him  away  very  quickly,"  continued  the 
king.  "  If  I  had  thought,  I  would  have  told  him  to 
come  and  bid  you  fareweL.  He  would  not  have  will- 
ingly gone  without  seeing  you  —  it  was  my  fault. 
He  will  return  in  twelve  days." 

Nehushta  was  silent  and  bit  her  lip  as  the  bitter 
thought  arose  in  her  heart  that  it  was  not  alone  Zoro- 
aster's sudden  departure  that  had  pained  her.  Then 
1  Herodotus,  book  iii.  chap.  Ixxii. 


ZOROASTER.  131 

it  floated  across  her  mind  that  the  king  had  purposely- 
sent  away  her  lover  in  order  that  he  might  himself 
try  to  win  her  heart. 

"  Why  did  you  send  him  —  and  not  another?  "  she 
asked,  without  looking  up,  and  forgetting  all  formal- 
ity of  speech. 

"  Because  he  is  the  man  of  all  others  whom  I  can 
trust,  and  I  needed  a  faithful  messenger,"  answered 
Darius,  simply. 

Nehushta  gazed  into  the  king's  face  searching  for 
some  sign  there,  but  he  had  spoken  earnestly  enough. 

"I   thought "  she  began,  and   then   stopped 

short,  blushing  crimson. 

"  You  thought,"  answered  Darius,  "  that  I  had  sent 
him  away  never  to  return  because  I  desire  you  for  my 
wife.  It  was  natural,  but  it  was  unjust.  I  sent  him 
because  I  was  obliged  to  do  so.  If  you  wish  it,  I  will 
leave  you  now,  and  I  will  promise  you  that  I  will  not 
look  upon  your  face  till  Zoroaster  returns." 

Nehushta  looked  down  and  she  still  blushed.  She 
could  hardly  believe  her  ears. 

"Indeed,"  she  faltered,  "it  were  perhap6  —  best  — 

I   mean "    she    could   net   finish   the    sentence. 

Darius  rose  quietly  from  his  seat : 

"  Farewell,  princess  ;  it  shall  be  as  you  desire,"  he 
said  gravely,  and  strode  to\.  ards  the  door.  His  face 
was  pale  and  his  lips  set  tight. 

Nehushta  hesitated  and  then,  in  a  moment,  she 
comprehended  the  whole  nobility  of  soul  of  the  young 
king,  —  a  man  at  w^hose  words  the  whole  land  trem- 
bled, who  crushed  his  enemies  like  empty  egg-shells 
beneath  his  feet,  and  yet  who,  when  he  held  the 


132  ZOROASTER. 

woman  he  loved  completely  in  his  power,  refused, 
even  for  a  moment,  to  intrude  his  presence  upon  her 
against  her  wish. 

She  sprang  from  her  seat  and  ran  to  him,  and 
kneeled  on  one  knee  and  took  his  hand.  He  did  not 
look  at  her,  but  his  own  hand  trembled  violently  in 
hers,  and  he  made  as  though  he  would  lift  her  to  her 
feet. 

"  Nay,"  she  cried,  "  let  not  my  lord  be  angry  with 
his  handmaiden !  Let  the  king  grant  me  my  request, 
for  he  is  the  king  of  men  and  of  kings !  "  In  her 
sudden  emotion  she  spoke  once  more  in  the  form  of  a 
humble  subject  addressing  her  sovereign. 

"  Speak,  princess,"  answered  Darius.  "  If  it  be 
possible,  I  will  grant  your  request." 

"  I  would "  she  stopped,  and  again  the  gener- 
ous blood  overspread  her  dark  cheek.  "  I  would  — 
I  know  not  what  I  would,  saving  to  thank  thee  for 
thy  goodness  and  kindness  —  I  was  unhappy,  and 
thou  hast  comforted  me.  I  meant  not  that  it  was 
best  that  I  should  not  look  upon  the  king's  face." 
She  spoke  the  last  words  in  so  low  a  tone  as  she  bent 
her  head,  that  Darius  could  scarcely  hear  them.  But 
his  willing  ears  interpreted  rightly  what  she  said,  and 
he  understood. 

"  Shall  I  come  to  you  to-morrow,  princess,  at  the 
same  hour  ?  "  he  asked,  almost  humbly. 

"Nay,  the  king  knoweth  that  the  garden  is  ever 
full  of  the  women  of  the  court,"  said  Nehushta,  hesi- 
tating ;  for  she  thought  that  it  would  be  a  very  differ- 
ent matter  to  be  seen  from  a  distance  by  all  the  ladies 
of  the  palace  in  conversation  with  the  king. 


ZOROASTER.  133 

"Do  not  fear,"  answered  Darius.  "The  garden 
shall  be  yours.  There  are  other  bowers  of  roses  in 
Shushan  whither  the  women  can  go.  None  but  you 
shall  enter  here,  so  long  as  it  be  your  pleasure. 
Farewell,  I  will  come  to  you  to-morrow  at  noon." 

He  turned  and  looked  into  her  eyes,  and  then  she 
took  his  hand  and  silently  placed  it  upon  her  forehead 
in  thanks.  In  a  moment  he  was  gone  and  she  could 
hear  his  quick  tread  upon  the  marble  of  the  steps 
outside,  and  in  the  path  through  the  roses.  When 
she  knew  that  he  was  out  of  sight,  Nehushta  went 
out  and  stood  in  the  broad  blaze  of  the  noonday  sun. 
She  passed  her  hand  over  her  forehead,  as  though  she 
had  been  dazed.  It  seemed  as  though  a  change  had 
come  over  her  and  she  could  not  understand  it. 

In  the  glad  security  of  being  alone,  she  ran  swiftly 
down  one  of  the  paths,  and  across  by  another.  Then 
she  stopped  short  and  bent  down  a  great  bough  of 
blooming  roses  and  buried  her  beautiful  dark  face 
in  the  sweet  leaves  and  smelled  the  perfume,  and 
laughed. 

"  Oh !  I  am  so  happy !  "  she  cried  aloud.  But  her 
face  suddenly  became  grave,  as  she  tried  to  under- 
stand what  she  felt.  After  all,  Zoroaster  was  only 
gone  for  twelve  days,  and  meanwhile  she  had  secured 
her  liberty,  the  freedom  of  w^andering  all  day  in  the 
beautiful  gardens,  and  she  could  dream  of  him  to  her 
heart's  content.  And  the  letter  ?  It  was  a  forgery, 
of  course.  That  wicked  queen  loved  Zoroaster  and 
wished  to  make  Nehushta  give  him  up  I  Perhaps  she 
might  tell  the  king  something  of  it  when  he  came  on 
the  next  day.     He  would  be  so  royally  angry  I     He 


134  ZOROASTER. 

would  so  hate  the  lie !  And  yet,  in  some  way,  it 
seemed  to  her  that  she  could  not  tell  Darius  of  this 
trouble.  He  had  been  so  kind,  so  gentle,  as  though 
he  had  been  her  brother,  instead  of  the  Great  King 
himself,  who  bore  life  and  death  in  his  right  hand 
and  his  left,  whose  shadow  was  a  terror  to  the  world 
already,  and  at  whose  brief,  imperious  word  a  nation 
rose  to  arms  and  victory.  Was  this  the  terrible 
Darius  ?  The  man  who  had  slain  the  impostor  with 
his  own  sword?  who  had  vanquished  rebel  Babylon 
in  a  few  days  and  brought  home  four  thousand  cap- 
tives at  his  back?  He  was  as  gentle  as  a  girl,  this 
savage  warrior  —  but  when  she  recalled  his  features, 
she  remembered  the  stern  look  that  came  into  his 
face  when  he  was  serious,  she  grew  thoughtful  and 
wandered  slowly  down  the  path,  biting  a  rose-leaf 
delicately  with  her  small  white  teeth  and  thinking 
many  things ;  most  of  all,  how  she  might  be  revenged 
upon  Atossa  for  what  she  had  suffered  that  morning. 
But  Atossa  herself  was  enjoying  at  that  very 
moment  the  triumph  of  the  morning  and  quietly 
planning  how  she  might  continue  the  torment  she 
had  imagined  for  Nehushta,  without  allowing  its 
cruelty  to  diminish,  while  keeping  herself  amused 
and  occupied  to  the  fullest  extent  until  Zoroaster 
should  return.  It  was  not  long  before  she  learned 
from  her  chief  tirewoman  that  the  king  had  been 
in  the  pavilion  of  the  garden  with  Nehushta  that 
morning,  and  it  at  once  occurred  to  her  that,  if  the 
king  returned  on  the  following  day,  it  would  be  an 
easy  thing  to  appear  while  he  was  with  the  princess, 
and  by  veiled  words  and  allusions  to  Zoroaster,  to 


ZOEOASTER.  135 

make  her  rival  suffer  the  most  excruciating  torments, 
which  she  would  be  forced  to  conceal  from  the  king. 

But,  at  the  same  time,  the  news  gave  her  cause  for 
serious  thought.  She  had  certainly  not  intended  that 
Nehushta  should  be  left  alone  for  hours  with  Darius. 
She  knew  indeed  that  the  princess  loved  Zoroaster, 
but  she  could  not  conceive  that  any  woman  should  be 
insensible  to  the  consolation  the  Great  King  could 
offer.  If  affairs  took  such  a  turn,  she  fully  intended 
to  allow  the  king  to  marry  Nehushta,  wliile  she  con- 
fidently believed  it  in  her  power  to  destroy  her  just 
when  she  had  reached  the  summit  of  her  ambition. 

It  chanced  that  the  king  chose  that  day  to  eat  his 
evening  meal  in  the  sole  company  of  Atossa,  as  he 
sometimes  did  when  weary  of  the  court  ceremony. 
"When,  therefore,  they  reclined  at  sundown  upon  a 
small  secluded  terrace  of  the  upper  story,  Atossa 
found  an  excellent  opportunity  of  discussing  Ne- 
hushta and  her  doings. 

Darius  lay  upon  a  couch  on  one  side  of  the  low 
table,  and  Atossa  was  opposite  to  him.  The  air  was 
dry  and  intensely  hot,  and  on  each  side  two  black 
fan-girls  plied  their  palm-leaves  silently  with  all  their 
might.  The  king  lay  back  upon  his  cushions,  his 
head  uncovered,  and  all  his  shaggy  curls  of  black 
hair  tossed  behind  him,  his  broad,  strong  hand  cir- 
cling a  plain  goblet  of  gold  that  stood  beside  him  on 
the  table.  For  once,  he  had  laid  aside  his  breast- 
plate, and  a  vest  of  white  and  purple  fell  loosely 
over  his  tunic  ;  but  his  sword  of  keen  Indian  steel  lay 
within  reach  upon  the  floor. 

Atossa  had  raised  herself  upon  her  elbow,  and  her 


136  ZOROASTER. 

clear  blue  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  king's  face, 
thoughtfully,  as  though  expecting  that  he  would  say 
something.  Contrary  to  all  custom,  she  wore  a  Greek 
tunic  with  short  sleeves  caught  at  the  shoulders  by 
golden  buckles,  and  her  fair  hair  was  gathered  into  a 
heavy  knot,  low  down,  behind  her  head.  Her  daz- 
zling arms  and  throat  were  bare,  but  above  her  right 
elbow  she  wore  a  thick  twisted  snake  of  gold,  her 
only  ornament. 

"  The  king  is  not  athirst  to-night,"  said  Atossa  at 
last,  watching  the  full  goblet  that  he  grasped,  but  did 
not  raise. 

''  I  am  not  always  thirsty,"  answered  Darius  mood- 
ily. "  Would  you  have  me  always  drunk,  like  a 
Babylonian  dog?" 

"  No ;  nor  always  sober,  like  a  Persian  captain." 
"What   Persian   captain?"  asked   the   king,  sud- 
denly looking  at  her  and  knitting  his  brows. 

"  Why,  like  him,  whom,  for  his  sobriety  you  have 
sent  to-day  on  the  way  to  Nineveh,"  answered  Atossa. 
"  I  have  sent  no  one  to  Nineveh  to-day." 
"  To  Ecbatana  then,  to  inquire  whether  I  told  you 
the  truth  about  my  poor  servant  Phraortes  —  Fravar- 
tish,  as  you  call  him,"  said  the  queen,  with  a  flash  of 
spite  in  her  blue  eyes. 

*'  I  assure  you,"  answered  the  king,  laughing,  "  that 
it  is  solely  on  account  of  your  remarkable  beauty  that 
I  have  not  had  you  strangled.  So  soon  as  you  grow 
ugly  you  shall  surely  die.  It  is  very  unwise  of  me, 
as  it  is !  " 

The  queen,  too,  laughed,  a  low,  silvery  laugh. 

*'  I  am  greatly  indebted  for  my  life,"  said  she.     "  I 


ZOROASTER. 


131 


am  very  beautiful,  I  am  aware,  but  I  am  no  longer 
the  most  beautiful  woman  in  the  world."  She  spoke 
without  a  trace  of  annoyance  in  her  voice  or  face,  as 
though  it  were  a  good  jest. 

"  No,"  said  Darius,  thoughtfully.  "  I  used  to  think 
that  you  were.  It  is  in  the  nature  of  man  to  change 
his  opinion.  You  are,  nevertheless,  very  beautiful  — 
I  admire  your  Greek  dress." 

"Shall  I  send  my  tirewoman  with  one  like  it  ta 
Nehushta?"  inquired  Atossa,  raising  her  delicata 
eyebrows,  with  a  sweet  smile. 

"  You  will  not  need  to  improve  her  appearance  in 
order  that  she  may  find  favour  in  my  eyes,"  answered 
Darius,  laughing.  "  But  the  jest  is  good.  You  would 
rather  send  her  an  Indian  snake  than  an  ornament." 

"Yes,"  returned  the  queen,  who  understood  the 
king's  strange  character  better  than  any  one.  "  You 
cannot  in  honesty  expect  me  not  to  hate  a  woman 
whom  you  think  more  beautiful  than  me  !  It  would 
hardly  be  natural.  It  is  unfortunate  that  she  should 
prefer  the  sober  Persian  captain  to  the  king  himself." 

"  It  is  unfortunate  —  yes  —  fortunate  for  you,  how- 
ever." 

"  I  mean,  it  will  chafe  sadly  upon  you  when  you 
have  married  her,"  said  Atossa,  calmly. 

Darius  raised  the  goblet  he  still  held  and  setting  it 
to  his  lips  drank  it  at  a  draught.  As  he  replaced  it 
on  the  table,  Atossa  rose  swiftly,  and  with  her  own 
hands  refilled  it  from  a  golden  ewer.  The  wine  was 
of  Shiraz,  dark  and  sweet  and  strong.  The  king  took 
her  small  white  hand  in  his,  as  she  stood  beside  him, 
^nd  looked  at  it. 


138  ZOROASTER. 

"It  is  a  beautiful  hand,"  he  said.  "Nehushta's 
fingers  are  a  trifle  shorter  than  yours  —  a  little  more 
pointed  —  a  little  less  grasping.  Shall  I  marry  Ne- 
hushta,  or  not  ? "  He  looked  up  as  he  asked  the 
question,  and  he  laughed. 

"  No,"  answered  Atossa,  laughing  too. 

" Shall  I  marry  her  to  Zoroaster? " 

"  No,"  she  answered  again,  but  her  laugh  was  less 
natural. 

"  What  shall  I  do  with  her  ?  "  asked  the  king. 

"  Strangle  her  I "  replied  Atossa,  with  a  little  fierce 
pressure  on  his  hand  as  he  held  hers,  and  without 
the  least  hesitation. 

"  There  would  be  frequent  sudden  deaths  in  Per- 
sia, if  you  were  king,"  said  Darius. 

"  It  seems  to  me  there  are  enough  slain,  as  it  is," 
answered  the  queen.  "  There  are,  perhaps,  one  —  or 
two " 

Suddenly  the  king's  face  grew  grave,  and  he 
dropped  her  hand. 

"  Look  you !  "  he  said,  "  I  love  jesting.  But  jest 
not  overmuch  with  me.  Do  no  harm  to  Nehushta, 
or  I  will  make  an  end  of  your  jesting  for  ever,  by 
sure  means.  That  white  throat  of  yours  would  look 
ill  with  a  bow-string  about  it." 

The  queen  bit  her  lip.  The  king  seldom  spoke  to 
her  in  earnest,  and  she  was  frightened. 

On  the  following  day,  when  she  went  to  the  gar- 
den, two  tall  spearmen  guarded  the  entrance,  and  as 
she  was  about  to  go  in,  they  crossed  their  lances  over 
the  marble  door  and  silently  barred  the  way. 


ZOROASTER.  139 


CHAPTER   X. 

Atossa  started  back  in  pure  astonishment  and 
stared  for  a  moment  at  the  two  guards,  looking  from 
one  to  the  other,  and  trying  to  read  their  stolid  faces. 
Then  she  laid  her  hand  on  their  spears,  and  would 
have  pushed  them  aside ;  but  she  could  not. 

"  Whose  hounds  are  ye  ?  "  she  said  angrily.  "  Know 
ye  not  the  queen?     Make  way  !  " 

But  the  two  strong  soldiers  neither  answered  nor 
removed  their  weapons  from  before  the  door. 

"  Dog-faced  slaves ! "  she  said  between  her  teeth. 
"I  will  crucify  you  both  before  sundown!"  She 
turned  and  went  away,  but  she  was  glad  that  no  one 
was  there  in  the  narrow  vestibule  before  the  garden 
to  see  her  discomfiture.  It  was  the  first  time  in  her 
life  she  had  ever  been  resisted  by  an  inferior,  and  she 
could  not  bear  it  easily.  But  when  she  discovered, 
half  an  hour  later,  that  the  guards  were  obeying  the 
Great  King's  orders,  she  bowed  her  head  silently  and 
went  to  her  apartments  to  consider  what  she  should 
do. 

She  could  do  nothing.  There  was  no  appeal  against 
the  king's  word.  He  had  distinctly  commanded  that 
no  one  save  Nehushta,  not  even  Atossa  herself,  was  to 
be  allowed  to  enter ;  he  had  placed  the  guards  there 
himself  the  previous  day,  and  had  himself  given  the 
order. 


140  ZOROASTER. 

For  eleven  days  the  door  was  barred ;  but  Atossa 
did  not  again  attempt  to  enter.  Darius  would  have 
visited  roughly  such  an  offence,  and  she  knew  how 
delicate  her  position  was.  She  resigned  herself  and 
occupied  her  mind  with  other  things.  Daily,  an  hour 
before  noon,  Nehushta  swept  proudly  through  the 
gate,  and  disappeared  among  the  roses  and  myrtles  of 
the  garden ;  and  daily,  precisely  as  the  sun  reached 
the  meridian,  the  king  went  in  between  the  spearmen, 
and  disappeared  in  like  manner. 

Darius  had  grown  so  suddenly  stern  and  cold  in 
manner  towards  the  queen,  that  she  dared  not  even 
mention  the  subject  of  the  garden  to  him,  fearing  a 
sudden  outburst  of  his  anger,  which  would  surely  put 
an  end  to  her  existence  in  the  court,  and  very  likely 
to  her  life. 

As  for  Nehushta,  she  had  plentiful  cause  for  reflec- 
tion and  much  time  for  dreaming.  If  the  days  were 
not  happy,  they  were  at  least  made  bearable  for  her 
by  the  absolute  liberty  she  enjoyed.  The  king  would 
have  given  her  slaves  and  jewels  and  rich  gifts  with- 
out end,  had  she  been  willing  to  accept  them.  She 
said  she  had  all  she  needed  —  and  she  said  it  a  little 
proudly ;  only  the  king's  visits  grew  to  be  the  centre 
of  the  day,  and  each  day  the  visit  lengthened,  till  it 
came  to  be  nearly  evening  when  Darius  issued  from 
the  gate. 

She  always  waited  for  him  in  the  eight-sided 
pavilion,  and  as  their  familiarity  grew,  the  king 
would  not  even  permit  her  to  rise  when  he  came,  nor 
to  use  any  of  those  forms  of  the  court  speech  which 
were  so  distasteful  to  him.     He  simply  sat  himself 


ZOROASTER.  141 

down  beside  her,  and  talked  to  her  and  listened  to 
her  answers,  as  though  he  were  one  of  his  own  sub- 
jects, no  more  hampered  by  the  cares  and  state  of 
royalty  than  any  soldier  in  the  kingdom. 

It  was  a  week  since  Zoroaster  had  mounted  to  ride 
to  Ecbatana,  and  Darius  sat  as  usual  upon  the  mar- 
ble bench  by  the  side  of  Nehushta,  who  rested  among 
the  cushions,  talking  now  without  constraint  upon 
all  matters  that  chanced  to  occur  as  subjects  of  con- 
versation. She  thought  Darius  was  more  silent  than 
usual,  and  his  dark  face  was  pale.  He  seemed  weary, 
as  though  from  some  great  struggle,  and  presently 
Nehushta  stopped  speaking  and  waited  to  see  whether 
the  king  would  say  anything. 

During  the  silence  nothing  was  heard  saving  the 
plash  of  the  little  fountain,  and  the  low  soft  ripple  of 
the  tiny  waves  that  rocked  themselves  against  the 
edge  of  the  basin. 

"Do  you  know,  Nehushta,"  he  said  at  last,  in  a 
weary  voice,  "that  I  am  doing  one  of  the  worst 
actions  of  my  life  ?  " 

Nehushta  started,  and  the  shadows  in  her  face  grew 
darker. 

"  Say  rather  the  kindest  action  you  ever  did,"  she 
murmured. 

"  If  it  is  not  bad,  it  is  foolish,"  said  Darius,  resting 
his  chin  upon  his  hand  and  leaning  forward.  "I 
would  rather  it  were  foolish  than  bad  —  I  fear  me  it 
is  both." 

Nehushta  could  guess  well  enough  what  it  was  he 
would  say.  She  knew  she  could  have  turned  the 
subject,    or   laughed,    or  interrupted   him   in    many 


142  ZOROASTER. 

ways;  but  she  did  none  of  these  things.  An  inde- 
scribable longing  seized  her  to  hear  him  say  that  he 
loved  her.  What  could  it  matter  ?  He  was  so  loyal 
and  good  that  he  could  never  be  more  than  a  friend. 
He  was  the  king  of  the  world  —  had  he  not  been 
honest  and  kind,  he  would  have  needed  no  wooing  to 
do  as  he  pleased  to  do,  utterly  and  entirely.  A  word 
from  his  lips  and  the  name  of  Zoroaster  would  be  but 
the  memory  of  a  man  dead ;  and  again  a  word,  and 
Nehushta  would  be  the  king's  wife  !  What  need  had 
he  of  concealment,  or  of  devious  ways  ?  He  was  the 
king  of  the  earth,  whose  shadow  was  life  and  death, 
whose  slightest  wish  was  a  law  to  be  enforced  by 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  warriors  I  There  was  noth- 
ing between  him  and  his  desires  —  nothing  but  that 
inborn  justice  and  truth,  in  which  he  so  royally  be- 
lieved. Nehushta  felt  that  she  could  trust  him,  and 
she  longed  —  out  of  mere  curiosity,  she  thought — to 
hear  him  speak  words  of  love  to  her.  It  would  only 
be  for  a  moment  —  they  would  be  so  soon  spoken; 
and  at  her  desire,  he  would  surely  not  speak  them 
again.  It  seemed  so  sweet,  she  knew  not  why,  to 
make  this  giant  of  despotic  power  do  as  she  pleased ; 
to  feel  that  she  could  check  him,  or  let  him  speak  — 
him  whom  all  obeyed  and  feared,  as  they  feared  death 
itself. 

She  looked  up  quietly,  as  she  answered  : 
"How  can  it  be  either  bad  or  foolish  of  you  to 
make  others  so  happy?  " 

"  It  seems  as  though  it  could  be  neither  —  and  yet, 
all  my  reason  tells  me  it  is  both,"  replied  the  king 
earnestly.      "  Here  I  sit  beside  you,  day  after  day, 


ZOROASTER.  143 

deceiving  myself  with  the  thought  that  I  am  making 
your  time  pass  pleasantly  till " 

"  There  is  not  any  deception  in  that,"  interrupted 
Nehushta  gently.  Somehow  she  did  not  wish  him  to 
pronounce  Zoroaster's  name.  "  I  can  never  tell  you 
how  grateful  I  am " 

''It  is  I  who  am  grateful,"  interrupted  the  king  in 
his  turn.  "  It  is  I  who  am  grateful  that  I  am  allowed 
to  be  daily  with  you,  and  that  you  speak  with  me, 

and  seem  glad  when  I  come "    He  hesitated  and 

stopped. 

"  What  is  there  that  is  bad  and  foolish  in  that?  " 
asked  Nehushta,  with  a  sudden  smile,  as  she  looked 
up  into  his  face. 

"  There  is  more  than  I  like  to  think,"  answered  the 
king.  "  You  say  the  time  passes  pleasantly  for  you. 
Do  you  think  it  is  less  pleasant  for  me  ?  "  His  voice 
sank  to  a  deep,  soft  tone,  as  he  continued  :  "  I  sit  here 
day  after  day,  and  day  after  day  I  love  you  more  and 
more.  I  love  you  —  where  is  the  use  of  concealing 
that  —  if  I  could  conceal  it?  You  know  it.  Perhaps 
you  pity  me,  for  you  do  not  love  me.  You  pity  me 
who  hold  the  whole  earth  under  my  feet  as  an  Egyp- 
tian juggler  stands  upon  a  ball,  and  rolls  it  whither 
he  will."     He  ceased  suddenly. 

"  Indeed  I  would  that  you  did  not  love  me,"  said 
Nehushta  very  gravely.  She  looked  down.  The 
pleasure  of  hearing  the  king's  words  was  indeed 
exquisite,  and  she  feared  that  her  eyes  might  betray 
her.  But  she  did  not  love  him.  She  wondered  what 
he  would  say  next. 

"  You  might  as  well  wish  that  dry  pastures  should 


144  ZOEOASTER. 

not  burn  when  the  sun  shines  on  them,  and  there  is 
no  rain,"  he  answered  with  a  passing  bitterness.  "  It 
is  at  least  a  satisfaction  that  my  love  does  not  harm 
you  —  that  you  are  willing  to  have  me  for  your 
friend " 

"  Willing  !  Your  friendship  is  almost  the  sweetest 
thing  I  know,"  exclaimed  the  princess.  The  king's 
eyes  flashed  darkly. 

"  Almost !  Yes,  truly  —  my  friendship  and  another 
man's  love  are  the  sweetest  things  !  What  would  my 
friendship  be  without  his  love  ?  By  Auramazda  and 
the  six  Amshaspands  of  Heaven,  I  would  it  were  my 
love  and  his  friendship !  I  would  that  Zoroaster 
were  the  king,  and  I  Zoroaster,  the  king's  servant ! 
I  would  give  all  Persia  and  Media,  Babylon  and 
Egypt,  and  all  the  uttermost  parts  of  my  kingdom, 
to  hear  your  sweet  voice  say :  '  Darius,  I  love  thee  ! ' 
I  would  give  my  right  hand,  I  would  give  my  heart 
from  my  breast  and  my  soul  from  my  body  —  my 
life  and  my  strength,  and  my  glory  and  my  kingdom 
would  I  give  to  hear  you  say :  '  Come,  my  beloved, 
and  put  thine  arms  about  me ! '  Ah,  child !  you 
know  not  what  my  love  is  —  how  it  is  higher  than 
the  heavens  in  worshipping  you,  and  broader  than 
the  earth  to  be  filled  with  you,^nd  deeper  than  the 
depths  of  the  sea,  to  change  not,  but  to  abide  for  you 
always." 

The  king's  voice  was  strong,  and  the  power  of  his 
words  found  wings  in  it,  and  seemed  to  fly  forth 
irresistibly  with  a  message  that  demanded  an  answer. 
Nehushta  regretted  within  herself  that  she  had  let 
him  speak  —  but  for  all  the  world  she  could  not  have 


ZOROASTEK.  145 

given  up  the  possession  of  the  words  he  had  spoken. 
She  covered  her  eyes  with  one  hand  and  remained 
silent  —  for  she  could  say  nothing.  A  new  emotion 
had  got  possession  of  her,  and  seemed  to  close  her 
lips. 

"  You  are  silent,"  continued  the  king.  "  You  are 
right.  What  should  you  answer  me  ?  My  voice 
sounds  like  the  raving  of  a  madman,  chained  by  a 
chain  that  he  cannot  break.  If  I  had  the  strength  of 
the  mountains,  I  could  not  move  you.  I  know  it. 
All  things  I  have  but  this  —  this  love  of  yours  that 
you  have  given  to  another.  I  would  I  had  it!  I 
should  have  the  strength  to  surpass  the  deeds  of  men, 
had  I  your  love  I  Who  is  this  whom  you  love  ?  A  cap- 
tain ?  A  warrior  ?  I  tell  you  because  you  have  so 
honoured  him,  so  raised  him  upon  the  throne  of  your 
heart,  I  will  honour  him  too,  and  I  will  raise  him 
above  all  men,  and  all  the  nation  shall  bow  before 
him.  I  will  make  a  decree  that  he  shall  be  wor- 
shipped as  a  god  —  this  man  whom  you  have  made  a 
god  of  by  your  love.  I  will  build  a  great  temple  for 
you  two,  and  I  will  go  up  with  all  the  people,  and 
fall  down  and  bow  before  you,  and  worship  you,  and 
love  you  with  every  sinew  and  bone  of  my  body,  and 
with  every  hope  and  joy  and  sorrow  of  my  soul.  He 
whom  you  love  shall  ask,  and  whatsoever  he  asks  I 
will  give  to  him  and  to  you.  There  shall  not  be  any- 
thing left  in  the  whole  world  that  you  desire,  but  I 
will  give  it  to  you.  Am  I  not  the  king  of  the  whole 
earth  —  the  king  of  all  living  things  but  you  ?  " 

Darius  breathed  savagely  hard  through  his  clenched 
teeth,  dfid  rising  suddenly,  paced  the  pavement  be- 


146  ZOROASTER. 

tween  Nehushta  and  the  fountain.  She  was  silent 
still,  overcome  with  a  sort  of  terror  at  his  words  — 
words,  every  one  of  which  he  was  able  to  fulfil,  if  he 
so  chose.     Presently  he  stood  still  before  her. 

"  Said  I  not  well,  that  I  rave  as  a  madman  —  that 
I  speak  as  a  fool  without  understanding  ?  What  can 
I  give  you  that  you  want?  Or  what  thing  can  I 
devise  that  you  have  need  of  ?  Have  you  not  all  that 
the  world  holds  for  mortal  woman  and  living  man  ? 
Do  you  not  love,  and  are  you  not  loved  in  return? 
Have  you  not  all  —  all  —  all  ?  Ah  !  woe  is  me  that 
I  am  lord  over  the  nations,  and  have  not  a  drop  of  the 
waters  of  peace  wherewith  to  quench  the  thirst  of  my 
tormented  soul !  Woe  is  me  that  I  rule  the  world 
and  trample  the  whole  earth  beneath  my  feet,  and 
cannot  have  the  one  thing  that  all  the  earth  holds 
which  is  good  !  Woe  is  me,  Nehushta,  that  you  have 
cruelly  stolen  my  peace  from  me,  and  I  find  it  not  — 
nor  shall  find  it  for  evermore  !  " 

The  strong  dark  man  stood  wringing  his  hands 
together ;  his  face  was  pale  as  the  dead,  his  black  eyes 
were  blazing  with  a  mad  fire.  Nehushta  dared  not 
look  on  the  tempest  she  had  roused,  but  she  trembled 
and  clasped  her  hands  to  her  breast  and  looked  down. 

"Nay,  you  are  right,"  he  cried  bitterly.  "  Answer 
me  nothing,  for  you  can  have  nothing  to  answer !  Is 
it  your  fault  that  I  am  mad  ?  Or  is  it  your  doing 
that  I  love  you  so  ?  Has  any  one  sinned  in  this  ?  I 
have  seen  you  —  I  saw  you  for  a  brief  moment  stand- 
ing in  the  door  of  your  tent —  and  seeing,  I  loved  you, 
and  love  you,  and  shall  love  you  till  the  heavens  are 
rolled  together  and  the  scroll  of   all  death  is  full! 


ZOROASTER.  147 

There  is  nothing,  nothing  that  you  can  say  or  do.  It 
is  not  your  fault  —  it  is  not  your  sin ;  but  it  is  by  you 
and  through  you  that  I  am  undone, — broken  as  the 
tree  in  the  storm  of  the  mountains,  burned  up  and 
parched  as  the  beast  perishing  in  the  sun  of  the 
desert  for  lack  of  water,  torn  asunder  and  rent  into 
pieces  as  the  rope  that  breaks  at  the  well !  By  you, 
and  for  you,  and  through  you,  I  am  ruined  and  lost 
—  lost — lost  for  ever  in  the  hell  of  my  wretched 
greatness,  in  the  immeasurable  death  of  my  own  hor- 
rible despair !  " 

With  a  wild  movement  of  agony,  Darius  fell  at 
Nehushta's  feet,  prostrate  upon  the  marble  floor,  and 
buried  his  face  in  the  skirts  of  her  mantle,  utterly 
over-mastered  and  broken  down  by  the  tumult  of  his 
passion. 

Nehushta  was  not  heartless.  Of  a  certainty  she 
would  have  pitied  any  one  in  such  distress  and  grief, 
even  had  the  cause  thereof  come  less  near  to  herself. 
But,  in  all  the  sudden  emotion  she  felt,  the  pity,  the 
fear,  and  the  self-reproach,  there  was  joined  a  vague 
feeling  that  no  man  ever  spoke  as  this  man,  that  no 
lover  ever  poured  forth  such  abundant  love  before, 
and  in  the  dim  suspicion  of  something  greater  than 
she  had  ever  known,  her  fear  and  her  pity  grew 
stronger,  and  strove  with  each  other. 

At  first  she  could  not  speak,  but  she  put  forth  her 
delicate  hand  and  laid  it  tenderly  on  the  king's 
thick  black  hair,  as  gently  as  a  mother  might  soothe 
a  passionate  child ;  and  he  suffered  it  to  rest  there. 
And  presently  she  raised  his  head  and  laid  it  in  her 
lap,  and  smoothed  his  forehead  with  her  soft  fingers, 
and  spoke  to  him. 


148  ZOEOASTER. 

"  You  make  me  very  sad,"  she  almost  whispered. 
"  I  would  that  you  might  be  loved  as  you  deserve 
love  —  that  one  more  worthy  than  I  might  give  you 
all  I  cannot  give." 

He  opened  his  dark  eyes  that  were  now  dull  and 
weary,  and  he  looked  up  to  her  face. 

''There  is  none  more  worthy  than  you,"  he  an- 
swered in  low  and  broken  tones. 

"  Hush,"  she  said  gently,  "  there  are  many.  Will 
you  forgive  me  —  and  forget  me  ?  Will  you  blot  out 
this  hour  from  your  remembrance,  and  go  forth  and 
do  those  great  and  noble  deeds  which  you  came  into 
the  world  to  perform  ?  There  is  none  greater  than 
you,  none  nobler,  none  more  generous." 

Darius  lifted  his  head  from  her  knee,  and  sprang 
to  his  feet. 

"I  will  do  all  things,  but  I  will  not  forget,"  he 
said.  "  I  will  do  the  great  and  the  good  deeds,  —  for 
you.  I  will  be  generous,  for  you ;  noble,  for  you ; 
while  the  world  lasts  my  deeds  shall  endure;  and 
with  them,  the  memory  that  they  were  done  for  you ! 
Grant  me  only  one  little  thing." 

"  Ask  anything  —  everything,"  answered  Nehushta, 
in  troubled  tones. 

"  Nehushta,  you  know  how  truly  I  love  you  —  nay, 
I  will  not  be  mad  again;  fear  not!  Tell  me  this  — 
tell  me  that  if  you  had  not  loved  Zoroaster,  you 
would  have  loved  me." 

Nehushta  blushed  deeply  and  then  turned  pale. 
She  rose  to  her  feet,  and  took  the  king's  outstretched 
hands. 

"Indeed,  indeed,  you  are  most  worthy  of  love  — 


ZOROASTER.  149 

Darius,  I  could  have  loved  you  well."  Her  voice 
was  very  low,  and  the  tears  stood  in  her  eyes. 

"  The  grace  of  the  All- Wise  God  bless  thee  !  "  cried 
the  king,  and  it  was  as  though  a  sudden  bright  light 
shone  upon  liis  face.  Then  he  kissed  her  two  hands 
fervently,  and  with  one  long  look  into  her  sorrowful 
eyes,  he  turned  and  left  her. 

But  no  man  saw  the  king  that  day,  nor  did  any 
know  where  he  was,  saving  the  two  spearmen  who 
stood  at  the  door  of  his  chamber.  Within,  he  lay 
upon  his  couch,  dry-eyed  and  stark,  staring  at  the 
painted  carvings  of  the  ceiling. 


160  ZOKOASTEK. 


CHAPTER  XL 

The  time  passed,  and  it  was  eleven  days  since 
Zoroaster  had  set  out.  The  king  and  Nehushta  had 
continued  to  meet  in  the  garden  as  before,  and  neither 
had  ever  referred  to  the  day  when  the  torrent  of  his 
heart  had  been  suddenly  let  loose.  The  hours  sped 
quietly  and  swiftly,  without  any  event  of  importance. 
Only  the  strange  bond,  half  friendship  and  half  love, 
had  grown  stronger  than  before  ;  and  Nehushta  won- 
dered how  it  was  that  she  could  love  two  men  so 
well,  and  yet  so  differently.  Indeed  they  were  very 
different  men.  She  loved  Zoroaster,  and  yet  it  some- 
times seemed  as  though  he  would  more  properly  have 
filled  the  place  of  a  friend  than  of  a  lover.  Darius 
she  had  accepted  as  her  friend,  but  there  were 
moments  when  she  almost  forgot  that  he  was  not 
something  more.  She  tried  to  think  of  her  meeting 
with  Zoroaster,  whether  it  would  be  like  former  meet- 
ings, —  whether  her  heart  would  beat  more  strongly, 
or  not  beat  at  all  when  her  lips  touched  his  as  of  old. 
Her  judgment  was  utterly  disturbed  and  her  heart 
no  longer  knew  itself.  She  gave  herself  over  to  the 
pleasure  of  the  king's  society  in  the  abandonment  of 
the  moment,  half  foreseeing  that  some  great  change 
was  at  hand,  over  which  she  could  exercise  no 
control. 

The  sun  was  just  risen,  but  the  bridge  over  the 


ZOKOASTER.  151 

quickly  flowing  Choaspes  was  still  in  the  shadow  cast 
over  the  plain  by  the  fortress  and  the  palace,  when 
two  horsemen  appeared  upon  the  road  from  Nineveh, 
riding  at  full  gallop,  and,  emerging  from  tlie  blue 
mist  that  still  lay  over  the  meadows,  crossed  the 
bridge  and  continued  at  full  speed  towards  the  ascent 
to  the  palace. 

The  one  rider  was  a  dark,  ill-favoured  man,  whose 
pale  flaccid  cheeks  and  drooping  form  betrayed  the 
utmost  fatigue.  A  bolster  was  bound  across  the 
withers  of  his  horse  and  another  on  the  croup,  so  that 
he  sat  as  in  a  sort  of  chair,  but  he  seemed  hardly  able 
to  support  himself  even  with  this  artificial  assistance, 
and  his  body  swayed  from  side  to  side  as  his  horse 
bounded  over  the  sharp  curve  at  the  foot  of  the  hill. 
His  mantle  was  white  with  dust,  and  the  tiara  upon 
his  head  was  reduced  to  a  shapeless  and  dusty  piece 
of  crumpled  linen,  while  his  uncurled  hair  and  tangled 
beard  hung  forward  together  in  disorderly  and  dust- 
clotted  ringlets. 

His  companion  was  Zoroaster,  fair  and  erect  upon 
his  horse,  as  though  he  had  not  ridden  three  hundred 
farsangs  in  eleven  days.  There  was  dust  indeed  upon 
his  mantle  and  garments,  as  upon  those  of  the  man 
he  conducted,  but  his  long  fair  hair  and  beard  blew 
back  from  his  face  as  he  held  his  head  erect  to  the 
breeze  he  made  in  riding,  and  the  light  steel  cap 
was  bright  and  burnished  on  his  forehead.  A  slight 
flush  reddened  his  pale  cheeks  as  he  looked  upward 
to  the  palace,  and  thought  that  his  ride  was  over  and 
his  errand  accomplished.  He  was  weary,  almost  to 
death  ;  but  his  frame  was  elastic  and  erect  still. 


152  ZOROASTER. 

As  they  rode  up  the  steep,  the  guards  at  the  outer 
gate,  who  had  already  watched  them  for  twenty 
minutes  as  they  came  up  the  road,  mere  moving 
specks  under  the  white  mist,  shouted  to  those  within 
that  Zoroaster  was  returning,  and  the  officer  of  the 
gate  went  at  once  to  announce  his  coming  to  the 
king.  Darius  himself  received  the  message,  and  fol- 
lowed the  officer  down  the  steps  to  the  tower  of  the 
gateway,  reaching  the  open  space  within,  just  as  the 
two  riders  galloped  under  the  square  entrance  and 
drew  rein  upon  the  pavement  of  the  little  court. 
The  spearmen  sprang  to  their  feet  and  filed  into  rank 
as  the  cry  came  down  the  steps  that  the  king  was 
approaching,  and  Zoroaster  leaped  lightly  from  his 
horse,  and  bid  Phraortes  do  likewise ;  but  the  wretched 
Median  could  scarce  move  hand  or  foot  without  help, 
and  would  have  fallen  headlong,  had  not  two  stout 
spearmen  lifted  him  to  the  ground,  and  held  him  upon 
his  legs. 

Darius  marched  quickly  up  to  the  pair  and  stood 
still,  while  Zoroaster  made  his  brief  salutation.  Phra- 
ortes, who  between  deadly  fatigue  and  deadly  fear  of 
his  life,  had  no  strength  left  in  him,  fell  forward  upon 
his  knees  as  the  two  soldiers  relaxed  their  hold  upon 
his  arms. 

"  Hail,  king  of  kings  !  Live  for  ever ! "  said  Zoro- 
aster.   *'  I  have  fulfilled  thy  bidding.     He  is  alive." 

Darius  laughed  grimly  as  he  eyed  the  prostrate 
figure  of  the  Median. 

"  Thou  art  a  faithful  servant,  Zoroaster,"  he  an- 
b"vered,  "  and  thou  ridest  as  the  furies  that  pursue  the 
fc'^uls  of  the  wicked  —  as  the  devils  of  the  mountains 


ZOROASTER.  153 

after  a  liar.  He  would  not  have  lasted  much  farther, 
this  bundle  of  sweating  dust.  Get  up,  fellow !  "  he 
said,  touching  Phraortes's  head  with  his  toe.  "  Thou 
liest  grovelling  there  like  a  swine  in  a  ditch." 

The  soldiers  raised  the  exhausted  man  to  his  feet. 
The  king  turned  to  Zoroaster. 

"  Tell  me,  thou  rider  of  whirlwinds,"  he  said,  laugh- 
ing, "  will  a  man  more  readily  tell  the  truth,  or  speak 
lies,  when  he  is  tired  ?  " 

"A  man  who  is  tired  will  do  whichever  will  procure 
him  rest,"  returned  Zoroaster,  with  a  smile. 

"Then  I  will  tell  this  fellow  that  the  sooner  he 
speaks  the  truth  the  sooner  he  may  sleep,"  said  the 
king.  Going  near  to  Zoroaster,  he  added  in  an  under- 
tone: "Before  thou  thyself  restest,  go' and  tell  the 
queen  privately  that  she  send  away  her  slaves,  and 
await  me  and  him  thou  hast  brought  in  a  few  min- 
utes. This  fellow  must  have  a  little  refreshment,  or 
he  will  die  upon  the  steps." 

Zoroaster  turned  and  went  up  the  broad  stairs,  and 
threaded  the  courts  and  passages,  and  mounted  to  the 
terrace  where  he  had  first  met  Atossa  before  the  king's 
apartments.  There  was  no  one  there,  and  he  was 
about  to  enter  under  the  great  curtain,  when  the 
queen  herself  came  out  and  met  him  face  to  face. 
Though  it  was  yet  very  early,  she  was  attired  with 
more  than  usual  care,  and  the  faint  colours  of  her 
dress  and  the  few  ornaments  she  wore,  shone  and 
gleamed  brightly  in  the  level  beams  of  the  morning 
sun.  She  had  guessed  that  Zoroaster  would  return 
that  day,  and  she  was  prepared  for  him. 

As  she  came  suddenly  upon  him,  she  gave  a  little 
cry,  that  mig,'ht  well  have  been  feigned. 


154  ZOROASTEK. 

"What!  Are  you  already  returned ? "  she  asked, 
and  tlie  joy  her  voice  expressed  was  genume.  He 
looked  so  godlike  as  he  stood  there  in  the  sunlight  — 
her  heart  leaped  for  joy  of  only  seeing  him. 

"  Yes  —  I  bear  this  message  from  the  Great  King  to 
the  queen.  The  Great  King  commands  that  the 
queen  send  away  her  slaves,  and  await  the  king  and 
him  I  have  brought  with  me,  in  the  space  of  a  few 
minutes." 

"It  is  well,"  answered  Atossa.  "There  are  no 
slaves  here  and  I  await  the  king."  She  was  silent  a 
moment.  "  Are  you  not  glad  to  have  come  back  ?  " 
she  asked,  presently. 

"  Yes,"  said  Zoroaster,  whose  face  brightened 
quickly  as  he  spoke.  "  I  am  indeed  glad  to  be  here 
again.  Would  not  any  one  be  glad  to  have  finished 
such  a  journey  ?  " 

The  queen  stood  with  her  back  to  the  curtained 
doorway  and  could  see  down  the  whole  length  of  the 
balcony  to  the  head  of  the  staircase.  Zoroaster  faced 
her  and  the  door.  As  he  spoke,  Atossa's  quick  eyes 
caught  sight  of  a  figure  coming  quickly  up  the  last 
steps  of  the  stairway.  She  recognised  Nehushta  in- 
stantly, but  no  trembling  of  her  lids  or  colouring  of 
her  cheek,  betrayed  that  she  had  seen  the  approach 
of  her  enemy.  She  fixed  her  deep-blue  eyes  upon 
Zoroaster's,  and  gazing  somewhat  sadly,  she  spoke  in 
low  and  gentle  tones : 

"  The  time  has  seemed  long  to  me  since  you  rode 
away,  Zoroaster,"  she  said. 

Zoroaster,  astonished  at  the  manner  in  which  she 
spoke,  turned  pale,  and  looked  down  coldly  at  her 


ZOROASTER.  155 

beautiful  face.  At  that  moment  Nehushta  stepped 
upon  the  smooth  marble  pavement  of  the  balcony. 

Still  Atossa  kept  her  e3xs  fixed  on  Zoroaster's. 

"  You  answer  me  nothing  ? "  she  said  in  broken 
tones.  Then  suddenly,  as  though  acting  under  an 
irresistible  impulse,  she  threw  her  arms  wildly  about 
his  neck  and  kissed  him  passionately  again  and  again. 

"  Oh  Zoroaster,  Zoroaster,  my  beloved  I"  she  cried, 
"  you  must  never,  never  leave  me  again ! "  And 
again  she  kissed  him,  and  fell  forward  upon  his 
breast,  holding  him  so  tightly  that,  for  a  moment,  he 
did  not  know  which  way  to  move.  He  put  his  hands 
upon  her  shoulders,  to  her  waist  —  to  try  to  push  her 
from  him.  But  it  was  in  vain ;  she  clung  to  him 
desperately  and  sobbed  upon  his  breast. 

In  the  sudden  and  fearful  embarrassment  in  which 
he  was  placed,  he  did  not  hear  a  short,  low  groan  far 
off  behind  him,  nor  the  sound  of  quickly  retreating 
steps  upon  the  stairs.  But  Atossa  heard  and  rejoiced 
fiercely;  and  when  she  looked  up,  Nehushta  was 
gone,  with  the  incurable  wound  in  her  breast. 

Atossa  suddenly  let  her  arms  fall  from  the  war- 
rior's neck,  looked  into  his  eyes  once,  and  then,  with 
a  short,  sharp  cry,  she  buried  her  face  in  her  hands 
and  leaned  back  against  the  door-post  by  the  heavy 
striped  curtain. 

"  Oh,  my  God !    What  have  I  done  ?  "  she  moaned. 

Zoroaster  stood  for  one  moment  in  hesitation  and 
doubt.  It  seemed  as  though  he  had  received  a  sud- 
den revelation  of  numberless  things  he  had  never 
understood.  He  spoke  quietly,  at  last,  with  a  great 
effort,  and  his  voice  sounded  kindly. 


156  ZOROASTER. 

"  I  thank  the  good  powers  that  I  do  not  love  thee 
—  and  I  would  that  thou  didst  not  love  me.  For  I 
am  the  Great  King's  servant,  faithful  to  death  —  and 
if  I  loved  thee  I  should  be  a  liar,  and  a  coward,  and 
the  basest  of  all  mankind.  Forget,  I  pray  thee,  that 
thou  hast  spoken,  and  let  me  depart  in  peace.  For 
the  Great  King  is  at  hand,  and  thou  must  not  suffer 
that  he  find  thee  weeping,  lest  he  think  thou  fearest 
to  meet  Phraortes  the  Median  face  to  face.  Forget, 
I  pray  thee  —  and  forgive  thy  servant  if  he  have 
done  anything  amiss." 

Atossa  looked  up  suddenly.  Her  eyes  were  bright 
and  clear,  and  there  was  not  a  trace  of  tears  in  them. 
She  laughed  harshly. 

"I  —  weep  before  the  king !  You  do  not  know 
me.  Go,  if  thou  wilt.  Farewell,  Zoroaster,"  —  her 
voice  softened  a  little,  —  "  farewell.  It  may  be  that 
you  shall  live,  but  it  may  be  that  you  shall  die, 
because  I  love  you." 

Zoroaster  bent  his  head  in  respectful  homage,  and 
turned  and  went  his  way.  The  queen  looked  after 
him,  and  as  he  disappeared  upon  the  staircase,  she 
began  to  smooth  her  head-dress  and  the  locks  of  her 
golden  hair,  and  for  a  moment,  she  smiled  sweetly  to 
herself. 

"  That  was  a  mortal  wound,  well  dealt,"  she  said 
aloud.  But  as  she  gazed  out  over  the  city,  her  face 
grew  grave  and  thoughtful.  "  But  I  do  love  him," 
she  added  softly,  "I  do  — I  do— I  loved  him  long 
ago."  She  turned  quickly,  as  though  fearing  some 
one  had  overheard  her.  "  How  foolish  I  am  !  "  she 
exclaimed  impatiently;  and  she  turned  and  passed 


ZOROASTER.  157 

away  under  the  heavy  curtain,  leaving  the  long 
balcony  once  more  empty,  —  save  for  the  rush  of  a 
swallow  that  now  and  then  flew  in  between  the 
pillars,  and  hovered  for  a  moment  high  up  by  the 
cornice,  and  sped  out  again  into  the  golden  sunshine 
of  the  summer  morning. 

Zoroaster  left  Atossa  with  the  hope  of  finding 
some  means  of  seeing  Nehushta.  But  it  was  impos- 
sible. He  knew  well  that  he  could  not  so  far  pre- 
sume as  to  go  to  her  apartment  by  the  lower  passage 
where  he  had  last  seen  her  on  the  day  of  his  depart- 
ure for  Ecbatana,  and  the  slave  whom  he  despatched 
from  the  main  entrance  of  the  women's  part  of  the 
palace  returned  with  the  brief  information  that  Ne- 
hushta was  alone  in  her  chamber,  and  that  no  one 
dared  disturb  her. 

Worn  out  with  fatigue  and  excitement,  and  scarcely 
able  to  think  connectedly  upon  the  strange  event  of 
the  morning,  Zoroaster  wearily  resigned  himself  to 
seeing  Nehushta  at  a  later  hour,  and  entering  his 
own  cool  chamber,  lay  down  to  rest.  It  was  evening 
when  he  awoke. 

Meanwhile  the  king  commanded  that  Phraortes 
should  be  fed  and  refreshed,  and  immediately  brought 
to  the  queen's  apartment.  Half  an  hour  after  Zoro- 
aster had  left  her,  Atossa  was  in  the  chamber  which 
was  devoted  to  her  toilet.  She  sat  alone  before  her 
great  silver  mirror,  calmly  awaiting  the  turn  of 
events.  Some  instinct  had  told  her  that  she  would 
feel  stronger  to  resist  an  attack  in  the  sanctuary  of 
her  small  inner  room,  where  every  object  was  im- 
pregnated with  her  atmosphere,  and  where  the  lat- 


158  ZOROASTER. 

tices  of  the  two  windows  were  so  disposed  that  she 
would  be  able  to  see  the  expression  of  her  adver- 
saries without  exposing  her  own  face  to  the  light. 

She  leaned  forward  and  looked  closely  at  herself 
in  the  glass,  and  with  a  delicate  brush  of  camel's 
hair  smoothed  one  eyebrow  that  was  a  little  ruffled. 
It  had  touched  Zoroaster's  tunic  w^hen  she  threw 
herself  upon  his  breast ;  she  looked  at  herself  w4th  a 
genuine  artistic  pleasure,  and  smiled. 

Before  long  she  heard  the  sound  of  leathern  shoes 
upon  the  pavement  outside,  and  the  curtain  was  sud- 
denly lifted.  Darius  pushed  Phraortes  into  the 
room  by  the  shoulders  and  made  him  stand  before 
the  queen.  She  rose  and  made  a  salutation,  and 
then  sat  down  again  in  her  carved  chair.  The  king 
threw  himself  upon  a  heap  of  thick,  hard  cushions 
that  formed  a  divan  on  one  side  of  the  room,  and 
prepared  to  watch  attentively  the  two  persons  before 
him. 

Phraortes,  trembling  with  fear  and  excessive 
fatigue,  fell  upon  his  knees  before  Atossa,  and 
touched  the  floor  with  his  forehead. 

"  Get  upon  thy  feet,  man,"  said  the  king  shortly, 
"  and  render  an  account  of  the  queen's  affairs." 

"  Stay,"  said  Atossa,  calmly,  "  for  what  purpose 
has  the  Great  King  brought  this  man  before  me  ?  " 

"For  my  pleasure,"  answered  Darius.  "Speak 
fellow !  Render  thy  account,  and  if  I  like  not  the 
manner  of  thy  counting,  I  will  crucify  thee." 

"The  king  liveth  for  ever,"  said  Phraortes  feebly, 
his  flaccid  cheeks  trembling,  as  his  limbs  moved  un- 
easily. 


ZOROASTER.  159 

"The  queen  also  liveth  for  ever,"  remarked 
Darius.  "  What  is  the  state  of  the  queen's  lands  at 
Ecbatana?" 

At  this  question  Phraortes  seemed  to  take  courage, 
and  began  a  rapid  enumeration  of  the  goods,  cattle 
and  slaves. 

"This  year  I  have  sown  two  thousand  acres  of 
wheat  which  will  soon  be  ripe  for  the  harvest.  I 
have  sown  also  a  thousand  acres  with  other  grain. 
The  fields  of  water-melons  are  yielding  with  amazing 
abundance  since  I  caused  the  great  ditches  to  be  dug 
last  winter  towards  the  road.  As  for  the  fruit  trees 
and  the  vinelands,  they  are  prospering ;  but  at  pres- 
ent we  have  not  had  rain  to  push  the  first  budding 
of  the  grapes.  The  olives  will  doubtless  be  very 
abundant  this  year,  for  last  year  there  were  few,  as  is 
the  manner  with  that  fruit.  As  for  the  yielding  of 
these  harvests  of  grain  and  wine  and  oil  and  fruit,  I 
doubt  not  that  the  whole  sales  will  amount  to  an 
hundred  talents  of  gold." 

"Last  year  they  only  yielded  eighty-five,"  remarked 
the  queen,  who  had  affected  to  listen  to  the  whole 
account  with  the  greatest  interest.  "  I  am  well 
pleased,  Phraortes.  Tell  me  of  the  cattle  and  sheep 
—  and  of  the  slaves  ;  whether  many  have  died  this 
year." 

"  There  are  five  hundred  head  of  cattle,  and  one 
hundred  calves  dropped  in  the  last  two  months. 
From  the  scarcity  of  rain  this  year,  the  fodder  has 
been  almost  destroyed,  and  there  is  little  hay  from 
the  winter.  I  have,  therefore,  sent  great  numbers 
of  slaves  with  camels  to  the  farther  plains  to  east- 


160  ZOROASTER. 

ward,  whence  they  return  daily  with  great  loads  of 
}iay  —  of  a  coarse  kind,  but  serviceable.  As  for  the 
flocks,  they  are  now  pasturing  for  the  summer  upon 
the  slopes  of  the  Zagros  mountains.  There  were 
six  thousand  head  of  sheep  and  two  thousand  head 
of  goats  at  the  shearing  in  the  spring,  and  the  wool 
is  already  sold  for  eight  talents.  As  for  the  slaves, 
I  have  provided  for  them  after  a  new  fashion.  There 
were  many  young  men  from  the  captives  that  came 
after  the  war  two  years  ago.  For  these  I  have  pur- 
chased wives  of  the  dealers  from  Scythia.  These 
Scythians  sell  all  their  women  at  a  low  price.  They 
are  hideous  barbarians,  speaking  a  strange  tongue, 
but  they  are  very  strong  and  enduring,  and  I  doubt 
not  they  will  multiply  exceedingly  and  bring  large 
profits " 

"Thou  art  extraordinarily  fluent  in  thy  speech," 
interrupted  the  king.  "  But  there  are  details  that 
the  queen  wishes  to  know.  Thou  art  aware  that  in 
a  frontier  country  like  the  province  of  Ecbatana,  it  is 
often  necessary  to  protect  the  crops  and  the  flocks 
from  robbers.  Hast  thou  therefore  thought  of  arm- 
ing any  of  these  slaves  for  this  purpose  ?  " 

"  Let  not  the  king  be  angry  with  his  servant," 
returned  Phraortes,  without  hesitation.  "  There  are 
many  thousand  soldiers  of  the  king  in  Ecbatana,  and 
the  horsemen  traverse  the  country  continually.  I 
have  not  armed  any  of  the  slaves,  for  I  supposed  we 
were  safe  in  the  protection  of  the  king's  men. 
Nevertheless,  if  the  Great  King  command  me " 

''  Thou  couldst  arm  them  immediately,  I  suppose  ?  " 
interrupted  Darius.  He  watched  Atossa  narrowly; 
her  face  was  in  the  shadow. 


ZOKOASTER.  161 

"  Nay,"  replied  Phraortes,  "  for  we  have  no  arms. 
But  if  the  king  will  give  us  swords  and  spear- 
heads   " 

''  To  what  end  ?  "  asked  Atossa.  She  was  perfectly 
calm  since  she  saw  that  there  was  no  fear  of  Phraortes 
making  a  mistake  upon  this  vital  point.  "  What  need 
have  I  of  a  force  to  protect  lands  that  are  all  within 
a  day's  journey  of  the  king's  fortress  ?  The  idea  of 
carrying  weapons  would  make  all  the  slaves  idle  and 
quarrelsome.  Leave  them  their  spades  and  their 
ploughs,  and  let  them  labour  while  the  soldiers  fight. 
How  many  slaves  have  I  now,  Phraortes  ?  " 

"  There  were,  at  the  last  return,  fourteen  thousand 
seven  hundred  and  fifty-three  men,  ten  thousand  two 
hundred  and  sixteen  women,  and  not  less  than  five 
thousand  children.     But  I  expect " 

"  What  can  you  do  with  so  many?  "  asked  Darius, 
turning  sharply  to  the  queen. 

"  Many  of  them  work  in  the  carpet-looms,"  answered 
Phraortes.  "  The  queen  receives  fifty  talents  yearly 
from  the  sales  of  the  carpets." 

"  All  the  carpets  in  the  king's  apartments  are  made 
in  my  looms,"  said  Atossa,  with  a  smile.  "I  am  a 
great  merchant." 

"I  have  no  doubt  I  paid  you  dearly  enough  for 
them,  too,"  said  the  king,  who  was  beginning  to  be 
weary  of  the  examination.  He  had  fu-mly  expected 
that  either  the  Median  agent,  or  the  queen  herself, 
would  betray  some  emotion  at  the  mention  of  arming 
the  slaves,  for  he  imagined  that  if  Atossa  had  really 
planned  any  outbreak,  she  would  undoubtedly  have 
employed  the  large  force  of  men  she  had  at  her  dis- 

M 


162  ZOEO  ASTER. 

posal,  by  finding  tliem  weapons  and  promising  tliem 
their  liberty  in  the  event  of  success. 

He  was  disappointed  at  the  appearance  of  the  man 
Phraortes.  He  had  supposed  him  a  strong,  determined 
man  of  imperious  ways  and  turbulent  instincts,  who 
could  be  easily  led  into  revolution  and  sedition  from 
the  side  of  his  ambition.  He  saw  before  him  the 
traditional  cunning,  quick-witted  merchant  of  Media, 
pale-faced  and  easily  frightened;  no  more  capable  of  a 
daring  stroke  of  usurpation  than  a  Jev/ish  pedlar  of 
Babylon.  He  was  evidently  a  mere  tool  in  the  hands 
of  the  queen ;  and  Darius  stamped  impatiently  upon 
the  floor  when  he  thought  that  he  had  perhaps  been 
deceived  after  all  —  that  the  queen  had  really  written 
to  Phraortes  simply  on  account  of  her  property,  and 
that  there  was  no  revolution  at  all  to  be  feared. 
Impulsive  to  the  last  degree,  when  the  king  had  read 
the  letter  to  Phraortes,  his  first  thought  had  been  to 
see  the  man  for  himself,  to  ask  him  a  few  questions 
and  to  put  him  at  once  to  death  if  he  found  him  un- 
truthful. The  man  had  arrived,  broken  with  exces- 
sive fatigue  and  weak  from  the  fearful  journey ;  but 
under  the  very  eye  of  the  king,  he  had  nevertheless 
given  a  clear  and  concise  account  of  himself;  and, 
though  he  betrayed  considerable  fear,  he  gave  no 
reason  for  supposing  that  what  he  said  was  not  true. 
As  for  the  queen,  she  sat  calmly  by,  polishing  her 
nails  with  a  small  instrument  of  ivory,  occasionally 
asking  a  question,  or  making  a  remark,  as  though  it 
were  all  the  most  natural  occurrence  in  the  world. 

Darius  was  impetuous  and  fierce.  His  intuitive 
decisions  were  generally  right,  and  he  acted  upon 


ZOROASTER.  163 

them  instantly,  without  hesitation;  but  he  had  no 
cunning  and  little  strategy.  He  was  always  for  doing 
and  never  for  waiting ;  and  to  the  extreme  rapidity 
of  his  movements  he  owed  the  success  he  had.  In 
the  first  three  years  of  his  reign  he  fought  nineteen 
battles  and  vanquished  nine  self-styled  kings  ;  but  he 
never,  on  any  occasion,  detected  a  conspiracy,  nor  de- 
stroyed a  revolution  before  it  had  broken  out  openly. 
He  was  often,  therefore,  at  the  mercy  of  Atossa  and 
frequently  found  himself  baffled  by  her  power  of 
concealing  a  subtle  lie  under  the  letter  of  truth,  and 
by  her  supreme  indifference  and  coldness  of  manner 
under  the  most  trying  circumstances.  In  his  simple 
judgment  it  was  absolutely  impossible  for  any  one  to 
lie  directly  without  betraying  some  hesitation,  and 
each  time  he  endeavoured  to  place  Atossa  in  some 
difficult  position,  when  she  must,  he  thought,  inevi- 
tably betray  herself,  he  was  met  by  her  inexplicable 
calm ;  which  he  was  forced  to  attribute  to  the  fact 
that  she  was  in  the  right  —  no  matter  how  the  evi- 
dence might  be  against  her. 

The  king  decided  that  he  had  made  a  mistake  in 
the  present  instance  and  that  Phraortes  was  innocent 
of  any  idea  of  revolution.  He  could  not  conceive 
how  such  a  man  should  be  capable  of  executing  a 
daring  stroke  of  policy.     He  determined  to  let  him 

go- 

"  You  ought  to  be  well  satisfied  with  the  result  of 
these  accounts,"  he  said,  staring  hard  at  Atossa. 
"  You  see  you  know  more  of  your  affairs,  and  sooner, 
than  you  could  have  known  if  you  had  sent  your 
letter.     Let  this  fellow  go,  and  tell  him  to  send  his 


164  ZOROASTEK. 

accounts  regularly  in  future,  or  he  will  have  the 
pains  of  riding  hither  in  haste  to  deliver  them. 
Thou  mayest  go  now  and  take  thy  rest,"  he  added, 
rising  and  pushing  the  willing  Phraortes  before  him 
out  of  the  room. 

"  Thou  hast  done  well.  I  am  satisfied  with  thee, 
Phraortes,"  said  Atossa  coldly. 

Once  more  the  beautiful  queen  was  left  alone,  and 
once  more  she  looked  at  herself  in  the  silver  mirror, 
somewhat  more  critically  than  before.  It  seemed  to 
her  as  she  gazed  and  turned  first  one  side  of  her  face 
to  the  light  and  then  the  other,  that  she  was  a  shade 
paler  than  usual.  The  change  would  have  been  im- 
perceptible to  any  one  else,  but  she  noticed  it  with 
a  little  frown  of  disapproval.  But  presently  she 
snioothed  her  brow  and  smiled  happily  to  herself. 
She  had  sustained  a  terrible  danger  successfully. 

She  had  hoped  to  have  been  able  to  warn  Phraortes 
how  to  act;  but,  partly  because  the  meeting  had 
taken  place  so  soon  after  his  arrival,  and  partly 
because  she  had  employed  a  portion  of  that  brief 
interval  with  Zoroaster  and  in  the  scene  she  had 
suddenly  invented  and  acted,  she  had  been  obliged 
to  meet  her  chief  agent  w^ithout  a  moment's  prepa- 
ration, and  she  knew  enough  of  his  cowardly  char- 
acter to  fear  lest  he  should  betray  her  and  throw 
himself  upon  the  king's  mercy  as  a  reward  for  the 
information  he  could  give.  But  the  crucial  moment 
had  passed  successfully  and  there  was  nothing  more 
to  fear.  Atossa  threw  herself  upon  the  couch  where 
the  king  had  sat,  and  abandoned  herself  to  the  deli- 
cious contemplation  of  the  pain  she  must  have  given 


ZOKOASTER.  165 

in  showing  herself  to  Nehushta  in  Zoroaster's  arms. 
She  was  sure  that  as  the  princess  could  not  have  seen 
Zoroaster's  face,  she  must  have  thought  that  it  was 
he  who  was  embracing  the  queen.  She  must  have 
suffered  horribly,  if  she  really  loved  him  1 


166  ZOROASTEU, 


CHAPTER  XII. 

When  Darius  left  the  queen,  he  gave  over  the 
miserable  Phraortes  to  the  guards,  to  be  cared  for, 
and  bent  his  stejDS  towards  the  gardens.  It  was  yet 
early,  but  he  wished  to  be  alone,  and  he  supposed 
that  Nehushta  w^ould  come  there  before  noon,  as  was 
her  wont.  Meanwhile,  he  wished  to  be  free  of  the 
court  and  of  the  queen.  Slowly  he  entered  the  mar- 
ble gate  and  walked  up  the  long  walk  of  roses,  pluck- 
ing a  leaf  now  and  then,  and  twisting  it  in  his  lingers, 
scenting  the  fresh  blossoms  with  an  almost  boyish 
gladness,  and  breathing  in  all  the  sweet  warmth  of 
the  summer  morning.  He  had  made  a  mistake,  and 
he  was  glad  to  be  away,  where  he  could  calmly  reflect 
upon  the  reason  of  his  being  deceived. 

He  wandered  on  until  he  came  to  the  marble  pavil- 
ion, and  would  have  gone  on  to  stray  farther  into  the 
gardens,  but  that  he  caught  sight  of  a  woman's  man- 
tle upon  the  floor  as  he  passed  by  the  open  doorway. 
He  went  up  the  few  steps  and  entered. 

Nehushta  lay  upon  the  marble  pavement  at  her  full 
length,  her  arms  extended  above  her  head.  Her  face 
was  ghastly  pale  and  her  parted  lips  were  white.  She 
looked  as  one  dead.  Her  white  linen  tiara  had  almost 
fallen  from  her  heavy  hair,  and  the  long  black  locks 
streamed  upon  the  stone  in  thick  confusion.  Her 
fingers  were  tightly  clenched,  and  on  her  face  was 


ZOROASTER.  167 

such  an  expression  of  agony,  as  Darius  had  never 
dreamed  of,  nor  seen  in  those  dead  in  battle. 

The  king  started  back  in  horror  as  he  caught  sight 
of  the  prostrate  figure.  lie  thought  she  was  dead  — 
murdered,  perhaps  —  until,  as  he  gazed,  he  saw  a  faint 
movement  of  breathing.  Then  he  sprang  forward, 
and  kneeled,  and  raised  her  head  upon  his  knee,  and 
chafed  her  temples  and  her  hands.  He  could  reach 
the  little  fountain  as  he  knelt,  and  he  gathered  some 
water  in  his  palm  and  sprinkled  it  upon  her  face. 

At  last  she  opened  her  eyes  —  then  closed  them 
wearily  again  —  then  opened  them  once  more  in  quick 
astonishment,  and  recognised  the  king.  She  would 
have  made  an  effort  to  rise,  but  he  checked  her,  and 
she  let  her  head  sink  back  upon  his  knee.  Still  he 
chafed  her  temples  with  his  broad,  brown  hand,  and 
gazed  with  anxious  tenderness  into  her  eyes,  that 
looked  at  him  for  a  moment,  and  then  wandered  and 
then  looked  again. 

"  What  is  this  ?  "  she  asked,  vacantly,  at  last. 

"  I  know  not,"  answered  the  king.  "  I  found  you 
here — lying  upon  the  floor.  Are  you  hurt?"  he 
asked  tenderly. 

"Hurt?  No  —  yes,  I  am  hurt  —  hurt  even  to 
death,"  she  added  suddenly.  "  Oh,  Darius,  I  would 
I  could  tell  you!     Are  you  really  my  friend?" 

She  raised  herself  without  his  help  and  sat  up. 
The  hot  blood  rushed  back  to  her  cheeks  and  her 
eyes  regained  their  light. 

"  Can  you  doubt  that  I  am  your  friend,  your  best 
friend  ?  "  asked  the  king. 

Nehushta  rose  to  her  feet  and  paced  the  little  hall 


168  ZOROASTER. 

in  great  emotion.  Her  hands  played  nervously  with 
the  golden  tassels  of  her  mantle,  her  head-dress  had 
fallen  quite  back  upon  her  shoulders,  and  the  masses 
of  her  hair  were  let  loose.  From  time  to  time  she 
glanced  at  the  king,  who  eyed  her  anxiously  as  he 
stood  beside  the  fountain. 

Presently  she  stopped  before  him,  and  very  gravely 
fixed  her  eyes  on  him. 

"  I  will  tell  you  something,"  she  said,  beginning  in 
low  tones.  "  I  will  tell  you  this  —  I  cannot  tell  you 
all.  I  have  been  horribly  deceived,  betrayed,  made  a 
sport  of.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  —  you  will  believe 
me,  will  you  not?  This  man  I  loved  —  I  love  him 
not  —  has  cast  me  off  as  an  old  garment,  as  a  thing 
of  no  price  —  as  a  shoe  that  is  worn  out  and  that  is 
not  fit  for  his  feet  to  tread  upon.  I  love  him  not  — 
I  hate  him  —  oh,  I  love  him  not  at  all !  " 

Darius's  face  grew  dark  and  his  teeth  ground  hard 
together,  but  he  stood  still,  awaiting  what  she  should 
say.  But  Nehushta  ceased,  and  suddenly  she  began 
again  to  walk  up  and  down,  putting  her  hand  to  her 
temples,  as  though  in  pain.  Once  more  she  paused, 
and,  in  her  great  emotion  laid  her  two  hands  upon 
the  shoulder  of  the  king,  who  trembled  at  her  touch, 
as  though  a  strong  man  had  struck  him. 

''  You  said  you  loved  me,  once,"  said  Nehushta,  in 
short,  nervous  tones,  almost  under  her  breath.  "  Do 
you  love  me  still  ?  " 

"  Is  it  so  long  since  I  told  you  I  loved  you  ?  "  asked 
Darius,  with  a  shade  of  bitterness.  "Ah!  do  not 
tempt  me  —  do  not  stir  my  sickness.  Love  you? 
Yea  —  as  the  earth  loves  the  sun  —  as  man  never 


ZOROASTER.  169 

loved  woman.  Love  you  ?  Ay !  I  love  you,  and  I 
am  the  most  miserable  of  men."  He  shook  from  head 
to  foot  with  strong  emotion,  and  the  stern  lines  of 
his  face  darkened  as  he  went  on  speaking.  "  Yet, 
though  I  love  you  so,  I  cannot  harm  him,  —  for  my 
great  oath's  sake  I  cannot  —  yet  for  you,  almost  I 
could.  Ah  Nehushta,  Nehushta  !  "  he  cried  passion- 
ately, ''  tempt  me  not !  Ask  me  not  this,  for  you 
can  almost  make  a  liar  of  the  Great  King  if  you 
will  I " 

"I  tempt  you  not,"  answered  the  princess.  "I 
will  not  that  you  harm  a  hair  of  his  head.  He  is 
not  worthy  that  you  should  lift  the  least  of  your 

fingers  to  slay  him.     But  this  I  tell  you "  she 

hesitated.  The  king  in  his  violent  excitement,  as 
though  foreseeing  what  she  would  say,  seized  her 
hands  and  held  them  tightly  while  he  gazed  into  her 
eyes. 

"  Darius,"  she  said,  almost  hurriedly,  "  if  you  love 
me,  and  if  you  desire  it,  I  will  be  your  wife." 

A  wild  light  broke  from  the  king's  eyes.  He 
dropped  her  hands  and  stepped  backwards  from  her, 
staring  hard.  Then,  with  a  quick  motion,  he  turned 
and  threw  himself  upon  the  marble  seat  that  ran 
around  the  hall,  and  buried  his  face  and  sobbed 
aloud. 

Nehushta  seemed  to  regain  some  of  her  calmness, 
when  once  she  had  said  the  fatal  words.  She  went 
and  knelt  beside  him  and  smoothed  his  brow  and  wild, 
rough  hair.  The  great  tears  stained  his  dark  cheek. 
He  raised  himself  and  looked  at  her  and  put  one  arm 
about  her  neck. 


170  ZOROASTER. 

"  Nehushta,"  lie  whispered,  "  is  it  true  ?  " 

She  bowed  her  head  silently.  Darius  drew  her 
towards  him  and  laid  her  cheek  upon  his  breast.  His 
face  bent  down  to  hers,  most  tenderly,  as  though  he 
would  have  kissed  her.  But  suddenly  he  drew  back, 
and  turned  his  eyes  away. 

"  No,"  he  said,  as  though  he  had  regained  the 
mastery  over  himself.  "  It  is  too  much  to  ask  —  that 
I  might  kiss  you!  It  is  too  much  —  too  much — that 
you  give  me.  I  am  not  worthy  that  you  should  be 
my  wife.  Nay ! "  he  cried,  as  she  would  not  let  him 
rise  from  his  seat.  "  Nay,  let  me  go,  it  is  not  right — 
it  is  not  worthy  —  I  must  not  see  you  any  more.  Oh, 
you  have  tempted  me  till  I  am  too  weak " 

"  Darius,  you  are  the  noblest  of  men,  the  best  and 
bravest."  Then  with  a  sudden  impulse  it  seemed  to 
Nehushta  that  she  really  loved  him.  The  majestic 
strength  of  Zoroaster  seemed  cold  and  meaningless 
beside  the  fervour  of  the  brave  young  king,  striving 
so  hard  to  do  right  under  the  sorest  temptation,  striv- 
ing to  leave  her  free,  even  against  her  will.  For  the 
moment  she  loved  him,  as  such  women  do,  with  a 
passionate  impulse.  She  put  her  arms  about  him  and 
drew  him  down  to  her. 

"  Darius,  it  is  truth  —  I  never  loved  you,  but  I  love 
you  now,  for,  of  all  living  men,  you  have  the  bravest 
heart."  She  pressed  a  kiss  hotly  upon  his  forehead 
and  her  head  sank  upon  his  shoulder.  For  one 
moment  the  king  trembled,  and  then,  as  though  all 
resistance  were  gone  from  him,  his  arms  went  round 
her,  locking  with  hers  that  held  him,  and  he  kissed 
her  passionately. 


ZOEOASTER.  ITl 

When  Zoroaster  awoke  from  his  long  sleep  it  was 
night.  He  had  dreamed  evil  dreams,  and  he  woke 
with  a  sense  of  some  great  disaster  impending.  He 
heard  unwonted  sounds  in  the  hall  outside  his  cham- 
ber, and  he  sprang  to  his  feet  and  called  one  of  the 
soldiers  of  his  guard. 

"  What  is  happening  ?  "  asked  Zoroaster  quickly. 

*'The  Great  King,  who  lives  for  ever,  has  taken  a 
new  wife  to-day,"  answered  the  soldier,  standing 
erect,  but  eyeing  Zoroaster  somewhat  curiously.  Zo- 
roaster's heart  sank  within  him. 

"  What  ?  Who  is  she  ?  "  he  asked,  coming  nearer 
to  the  man. 

"  The  new  queen  is  Nehushta  —  the  Hebrew  prin- 
cess," answered  the  spearman.  "  There  is  a  great 
banquet,  and  a  feast  for  the  guard,  and  much  food 
and  wine  for  the  slaves " 

"  It  is  well,"  answered  Zoroaster.  "  Go  thou,  and 
feast  with  the  rest." 

The  man  saluted,  and  left  the  room.  Zoroaster 
remained  standing  alone,  his  teeth  chattering  to- 
gether and  his  strong  limbs  shaking  beneath  him. 
But  he  abandoned  himself  to  no  frenzy  of  grief,  nor 
weeping;  one  seeing  him  would  have  said  he  was 
sick  of  a  fever.  His  blue  eyes  stared  hard  at  the 
lamp-light  and  his  face  was  white,  but  he  did  not  so 
much  as  utter  an  exclamation,  nor  give  one  groan. 
He  went  and  sat  down  upon  a  chair  and  folded  his 
hands  together,  as  though  waiting  for  some  evento 
But  nothing  happened;  no  one  came  to  disturb  him 
in  his  solitude,  though  he  could  hear  the  tramping 
feet  and  the  unceasing  talk  of  the  slaves  and  soldiers 


172  ZOROASTER. 

without.  In  the  vast  palace,  where  thousands  dwelt, 
where  all  were  feasting  or  talking  of  the  coming  ban- 
quet, Zoroaster  was  utterly  alone. 

At  last  he  rose,  slowly,  as  though  with  an  effort, 
and  paced  twice  from  one  end  of  the  room  to  the  other. 
Upon  a  low  shelf  on  one  side,  his  garments  were 
folded  together,  while  his  burnished  cuirass  and  hel- 
met and  other  arms  which  he  had  not  worn  upon  his 
rapid  journey  to  Ecbatana,  hung  upon  nails  in  the 
wall  above.  He  looked  at  all  these  things  and  turned 
the  clothes  over  piece  by  piece,  till  he  had  found 
a  great  dark  mantle  and  a  black  hood  such  as  was 
worn  in  Media.  These  he  put  on,  and  beneath  the 
cloak  he  girded  a  broad,  sharp  knife  about  him. 
Then  wrapping  himself  closely  round  with  the  dark- 
coloured  stuff  and  di-awing  the  hood  over  his  eyes,  he 
lifted  the  curtain  of  his  door  and  went  out,  without 
casting  a  look  behind  him. 

In  the  crowd  of  slaves  he  passed  unnoticed ;  for 
the  hall  was  but  dimly  lighted  by  a  few  torches,  and 
every  one's  attention  was  upon  the  doings  of  the  day 
and  the  coming  feast. 

Zoroaster  soon  gathered  from  the  words  he  heard 
spoken,  that  the  banquet  had  not  yet  begun,  and  he 
hastened  to  the  columned  porch  through  which  the 
royal  party  must  pass  on  the  way  to  the  great  hall 
which  formed  the  centre  of  the  main  building.  Files 
of  spearmen,  in  their  bronze  breastplates  and  scarlet 
and  blue  mantles,  lined  the  way,  which  was  strewn 
with  yellow  sand  and  myrtle  leaves  and  roses.  At 
every  pillar  stood  a  huge  bronze  candlestick,  in  which 
a  torch  of  wax  and  fir-gum  burned,  and  flared,  and 


ZOROASTER.  173 

sent  up  a  cloud  of  half  pungent,  half  aromatic  smoke. 
Throngs  of  slaves  and  soldiers  pressed  close  behind 
the  lines  of  spearmen,  elbowing  each  other  with  loud 
jests  and  surly  complaints,  to  get  a  better  place,  a 
sea  of  moving,  shouting,  gesticulating  humanity. 
Zoroaster's  great  height  and  broad  shoulders  enabled 
him  easily  to  push  to  the  front,  and  he  stood  there, 
disguised  and  unknown,  peering  between  the  heads  of 
two  of  his  own  soldiers  to  obtain  the  first  view  of  the 
procession  as  it  came  down  the  broad  staircase  at  the 
end  of  the  porch. 

Suddenly  the  blast  of  deep-toned  trumpets  was 
heard  in  the  distance,  and  silence  fell  upon  the  great 
multitude.  With  a  rhythmic  sway  of  warlike  tone 
the  clangour  rose  and  fell,  and  rose  again  as  the 
trumpeters  came  out  upon  the  great  staircase  and 
began  to  descend.  After  them  came  other  musicians, 
whose  softer  instruments  began  to  be  heard  in  har- 
mony with  the  resounding  bass  of  the  horns,  and 
then,  behind  them,  came  singers,  whose  strong,  high 
voices  completed  the  full  burst  of  music  that  went 
before  the  king. 

With  measured  tread  the  procession  advanced. 
There  were  neither  priests,  nor  sacrificers,  nor  any 
connected  with  any  kind  of  temple ;  but  after  the 
singers  came  two  hundred  noble  children  clad  in 
white,  bearing  long  garlands  of  flowers  that  trailed 
upon  the  ground,  so  that  many  of  the  blossoms  were 
torn  off  and  strewed  the  sand. 

But  Zoroaster  looked  neither  on  the  singers,  nor 
on  the  children.  His  eyes  were  fixed  intently  on  the 
two  figures  that  followed  them  —  Darius,  the  king, 


174  ZOROASTER. 

and  Nehushta,  the  bride.  They  walked  side  by  side, 
and  the  procession  left  an  open  space,  ten  paces  be- 
fore and  ten  paces  behind  the  royal  pair.  Darius 
wore  the  tunic  of  purple  and  white  stripes,  the 
mantle  of  Tyrian  purple  on  his  shoulders  and  upon 
his  head  the  royal  crown  of  gold  surrounded  the  linen 
tiara ;  his  left  hand,  bare  and  brown  and  soldier-like, 
rested  upon  the  golden  hilt  of  his  sword,  and  in  his 
right,  as  he  walked,  he  carried  a  long  golden  rod 
surmounted  by  a  ball,  twined  with  myrtle  from  end 
to  end.  He  walked  proudly  forward,  and  as  he 
passed,  many  a  spearman  thought  with  pride  that 
the  Great  King  looked  as  much  a  soldier  as  he 
himself. 

By  his  left  side  came  Nehushta,  clad  entirely  in 
cloth  of  gold,  while  a  mantle  of  the  royal  purple 
hung  down  behind  her.  Her  white  linen  tiara  was 
bound  round  with  myrtle  and  roses,  and  in  her  hands 
she  bore  a  myrtle  bough. 

Her  face  was  pale  in  the  torchlight,  but  she  seemed 
composed  in  manner,  and  from  time  to  time  she 
glanced  at  the  king  with  a  look  which  was  certainly 
not  one  of  aversion. 

Zoroaster  felt  himself  growing  as  cold  as  ice  as 
they  approached,  and  his  teeth  chattered  in  his  head. 
His  brain  reeled  with  the  smoke  of  the  torches,  the 
powerful,  moving  tones  of  the  music  and  the  strange- 
ness of  the  whole  sight.  It  seemed  as  though  it 
could  not  be  real.  He  fixed  his  eyes  upon  Nehushta, 
but  his  face  was  shaded  all  around  by  his  dark  hood. 
Nevertheless,  so  intently  did  he  gaze  upon  her  that, 
as  she  came  near,  she  felt  his  look,  as  it  were,  and, 


ZOEOASTER.  175 

searching  in  the  crowd  behind  the  soldiers,  met  his 
eyes.  She  must  have  known  it  was  he,  even  under 
the  disguise  that  hid  his  features,  for,  though  she 
walked  calmly  on,  the  angry  blood  rushed  to  her  face 
and  brow,  overspreading  her  features  with  a  sudden, 
dark  flush. 

Just  as  she  came  up  to  where  Zoroaster  stood,  he 
thrust  his  covered  head  far  out  between  the  soldiers. 
His  eyes  gleamed  like  coals  of  blue  fire  and  his  voice 
came  low,  with  a  cold,  clear  ring,  like  the  blade  of  a 
good  sword  striking  upon  a  piece  of  iron. 

"  Faithless  I  " 

That  was  all  he  said,  but  all  around  heard  the  cut- 
ting tone,  that  neither  the  voices  of  the  singers,  nor 
the  clangour  of  the  trumpets  could  drown. 

Nehushta  drew  herself  up  and  paused  for  one  mo- 
ment, and  turned  upon  the  dark-robed  figure  a  look  of 
such  unutterable  loathing  and  scorn  as  one  would  not 
have  deemed  could  be  concentrated  in  a  human  face. 
Then  she  passed  on. 

The  two  spearmen  turned  quickly  upon  the  man 
between  them,  who  had  uttered  the  insult  against  the 
new  queen,  and  laid  hold  of  him  roughly  by  the 
shoulders.  A  moment  more  and  his  life  would  have 
been  ended  by  their  swords.  But  his  strong,  white 
hands  stole  out  like  lightning,  and  seized  each  soldier 
by  the  wrist,  and  twisted  their  arms  so  suddenly  and 
with  such  furious  strength,  that  they  cried  aloud 
with  pain  and  fell  headlong  at  his  feet.  The  people 
parted  for  a  space  in  awe  and  wonder,  and  Zoroaster 
turned,  with  his  dark  mantle  close  drawn  around 
him,  and  strode  out  through  the  gaping  crowd. 


176  ZOROASTER. 

"  It  is  a  devil  of  the  mountains  !  "  cried  one. 

"  It  is  Ahriman  himself  !  "  said  another. 

"  It  is  the  soul  of  the  priest  of  Bel  whom  the  king 
slew  at  Babylon ! " 

"  It  is  the  Evil  Spirit  of  Cambyses  !  " 

"  Nay,"  quoth  one  of  the  spearmen,  rubbing  his 
injured  hand,  "  it  was  Zoroaster,  the  captain.  I  saw 
his  face  beneath  that  hood  he  wore." 

"  It  may  be,"  answered  his  fellow.  "  They  say  he 
can  break  a  bar  of  iron,  as  thick  as  a  man's  three 
fingers,  with  his  hand.  But  I  believe  it  was  a  devil 
of  the  mountains." 

But  the  procession  marched  on,  and  long  before  the 
crowd  had  recovered  enough  from  its  astonishment  to 
give  utterance  to  these  surmises,  Zoroaster  had  passed 
out  of  the  porch  and  back  through  the  deserted  courts, 
and  down  the  wide  staircase  to  the  palace  gate,  and 
out  into  the  quiet,  starlit  night,  alone  and  on  foot. 

He  would  have  no  compromise  with  his  grief ;  he 
would  be  alone  with  it.  He  needed  not  mortal  sym- 
pathy and  he  would  not  have  the  pity  of  man.  The 
blow  had  struck  home  with  deadly  certainty  and  the 
wound  was  such  as  man  cannot  heal,  neither  woman. 
The  fabric  of  happiness,  which  in  a  year  he  had  built 
himself,  was  shattered  to  its  foundation,  and  the  fall 
of  it  was  fearful.  The  ruin  of  it  reached  over  the 
whole  dominion  of  his  soul  and  rent  all  the  palace 
of  his  body.  The  temple  that  had  stood  so  fair, 
whither  his  heart  had  gone  up  to  worship  his  beloved 
one,  was  destroyed  and  utterly  beaten  to  pieces  ;  and 
the  ruin  of  it  was  as  a  heap  of  dead  bones,  so  loath- 
some in  decay,  that  the  eyes  of  his  spirit  turned  in 


ZOROASTER.  177 

horror  and  disgust  from  the  mward  contemplation  of 
so  miserable  a  sight. 

Alone  and  on  foot,  he  went  upon  his  dreary  way, 
dry-eyed  and  calm.  There  was  nothing  left  of  all  his 
past  life  that  he  cared  for.  His  armour  hung  in  his 
chamber  in  the  palace  and  with  it  he  left  the  Zoroaster 
he  had  known  —  the  strong,  the  young,  the  beautiful; 
the  warrior,  the  lover,  the  singer  of  sweet  songs, 
the  smiter  of  swift  blows,  the  peerless  horseman,  the 
matchless  man.  He  who  went  out  alone  into  the 
great  night,  was  a  moving  sorrow,  a  horror  of  grief 
made  visible  as  a  walking  shadow  among  things  real, 
a  man  familiar  already  with  death  as  with  a  friend, 
and  with  the  angel  of  death  as  with  a  lover. 

Alone  —  it  was  a  beginning  of  satisfaction  to  be 
away  from  all  the  crowd  of  known  and  unknown  faces 
familiar  to  his  life  —  but  the  end  and  attainment  of 
satisfaction  could  only  come  when  he  should  be  away 
from  himself,  from  the  heavy  body  that  wearied  him, 
and  from  the  heavier  soul  that  was  crushed  with  itself 
as  with  a  burden.  For  sorrow  was  his  companion 
from  that  day  forth,  and  grief  undying  was  his  coun- 
sellor. 

Ah  God !  She  was  so  beautiful  and  her  love  was 
so  sweet  and  strong !  Her  face  had  been  as  the  face 
of  an  angel,  and  her  virgin-heart  as  the  innermost 
leaves  of  the  rose  that  are  folded  together  in  the  bud 
before  the  rising  of  the  sun.  Her  kiss  was  as  the 
breath  of  spring  that  gladdens  the  earth  into  new  life, 
her  eyes  as  crystal  wells,  from  the  depths  whereof 
truth  rose  blushing  to  the  golden  light  of  day.  Her 
lips  were  so  sweet  that  a  man  wondered  how  they 

1S5 


178  ZOROASTER. 

could  ever  part,  till,  when  they  parted,  her  gentle 
breath  bore  forth  the  music  of  her  words,  that  was 
sweeter  than  all  created  sounds.  She  was  of  all 
earthly  women  the  most  beautiful  —  the  very  most 
lovely  thing  that  God  had  made;  and  of  all  mortal 
women  that  have  loved,  her  love  had  been  the  purest, 
the  gentlest,  the  truest.  There  was  never  woman 
like  to  her,  nor  would  be  again. 

And  yet  —  scarce  ten  days  had  changed  her,  had 
so  altered  and  disturbed  the  pure  elements  of  her 
wondrous  nature  that  she  had  lied  to  herself  and  lied 
to  her  lover  the  very  lie  of  lies  —  for  what  ?  To  wear 
a  piece  of  purple  of  a  richer  dye  than  other  women 
wore,  to  bind  her  hair  with  a  bit  of  gold,  to  be  called 
a  queen  - —  a  queen  forsooth !  when  she  had  been 
from  her  birth  up  the  sovereign  queen  of  all  created 
women ! 

The  very  lie  of  lies !  Was  there  ever  such  a 
monstrous  lie  since  the  world  first  learned  the  un- 
truths of  the  serpent's  wisdom  ?  Had  she  not  sworn 
and  promised,  by  the  holiness  of  her  God,  to  love 
Zoroaster  for  ever?  For  ever.  O  word,  that  had 
meant  heaven,  and  now  meant  hell !  —  that  had  meant 
joy  without  any  end  and  peace  and  all  love !  —  that 
meant  now  only  pain  eternal,  and  sorrow,  and  gnaw- 
ing torment  of  a  wound  that  would  never  heal !  O 
Death,  that  yesterday  would  have  seemed  Life  for 
her !  O  Life,  that  to-day,  by  her,  was  made  the  Death 
of  deaths! 

Emptiness  of  emptiness  —  the  whole  world  one 
hollow  cavern  of  vanity  —  lifeless  and  lightless,  where 
the  ghosts  of  the  sorrows  of  men  moan  dismally,  and 


ZOROASTER.  179 

the  shadows  of  men's  griefs  scream  out  their  wild 
agony  upon  the  ghastly  darkness !  Night,  through 
which  no  dawn  shall  ever  gleam,  fleet  and  fair,  to 
touch  with  rosy  fingers  the  eyes  of  a  dead  world  and 
give  them  sight!  Winter,  of  unearthly  cold,  that 
through  all  the  revolving  ages  of  untiring  time,  shall 
never  see  the  face  of  another  spring,  nor  feel  its  icy 
veins  thawing  with  the  pulses  of  a  forgotten  life, 
quickened  from  within  with  the  thrilling  hope  of  a 
new  and  glorious  birth ! 

Far  out  upon  the  southern  plain  Zoroaster  lay 
upon  the  dew-wet  ground  and  gazed  up  into  the 
measureless  depths  of  heaven,  where  the  stars  shone 
out  like  myriads  of  jewels  set  in  the  dark  mantle  of 
night ! 

Gradually,  as  he  lay,  the  tempest  of  his  heart  sub- 
sided, and  the  calm  of  the  vast  solitude  descended 
upon  him,  even  as  the  dew  had  descended  upon  the 
earth.  His  temples  ceased  to  throb  with  the  wild 
pulse  that  sent  lightnings  through  his  brain  at  every 
beat,  and  from  the  intensity  of  his  sorrow,  his  soul 
seemed  to  float  upwards  to  those  cool  depths  of  the 
outer  firmament  where  no  sorrow  is.  His  eyes  grew 
glassy  and  fixed,  and  his  body  rigid  in  the  night- 
dews;  and  his  spirit,  soaring  beyond  the  power  of 
earthly  forces  to  weigh  down  its  flight,  rose  to  that 
lofty  sphere  where  the  morning  and  the  evening  are 
but  one  eternal  day,  where  the  mighty  unison  of  the 
heavenly  chorus  sends  up  its  grand  plain-chant  to 
God  Most  High. 


180  ZOROASTER. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Far  in  the  wild  mountains  of  the  south,  where  a 
primeval  race  of  shepherds  pastures  its  flocks  of 
shaggy  goats  upon  the  scanty  vegetation  of  rocky 
slopes,  there  is  a  deep  gorge  whither  men  seldom 
penetrate,  and  where  the  rays  of  the  sun  fall  but  for 
a  short  hour  at  noonday.  A  man  may  walk,  or  rather 
climb,  along  the  side  of  the  little  stream  that  rushes 
impetuously  down  among  the  black  rocks,  for  a  full 
hour  and  a  half  before  he  reaches  the  end  of  the  nar- 
row valley.  Then  he  will  come  upon  a  sunken  place, 
like  a  great  natural  amphitheatre,  the  steep  walls  of 
boulders  rising  on  all  sides  to  a  lofty  circle  of  dark 
crags.  In  the  midst  of  this  open  space  a  spring  rises 
suddenly  from  beneath  a  mass  of  black  stone,  with  a 
rushing,  gurgling  sound,  and  makes  a  broad  pool, 
whence  the  waters  flow  down  in  a  little  torrent 
through  the  gorge  till  they  emerge  far  below  into 
the  fertile  plain  and  empty  themselves  into  the 
Araxes,  which  flows  by  the  towers  and  palaces  of 
lordly  Stakhar,  more  than  two  days'  journey  from  the 
hidden  circle  in  the  mountains. 

It  would  have  been  a  hard  thing  to  recognise 
Zoroaster  in  the  man  who  sat  day  after  day  beside 
the  spring,  absorbed  in  profound  meditation.  His  tall 
figure  was  wasted  almost  to  emaciation  by  fasting  and 
exposure  ;  his  hair  and  beard  had  turned  snow-white, 


ZOROASTER.  181 

and  hung  down  in  abundant  masses  to  his  waist,  and 
his  fair  young  face  was  pale  and  transparent.  But 
in  his  deep  blue  eyes  there  was  a  light  different  from 
the  light  of  other  days  —  the  strange  calm  fire  of  a 
sight  that  looks  on  wondrous  things,  and  sees  what 
the  eyes  of  men  may  not  see,  and  live. 

Nearly  three  years  had  passed  since  he  went  forth 
from  the  palace  of  Shushan,  to  wander  southwards  in 
search  of  a  resting-place,  and  he  was  but  three-and- 
thirty  years  of  age.  But  between  him  and  the  past 
there  was  a  great  gulf  —  the  interval  between  the 
man  and  the  prophet,  between  the  cares  of  mortality 
and  the  divine  calm  of  the  higher  life. 

From  time  to  time  indeed,  he  ascended  the  steep 
path  he  had  made  among  the  stones  and  rocks,  to  the 
summit  of  the  mountain  ;  and  there  he  met  one  of 
the  shepherds  of  the  hills,  who  brought  him  once 
every  month  a  bag  of  parched  grain  and  a  few  small, 
hard  cheeses  of  goats'  milk ;  and  in  return  for  these 
scanty  provisions,  he  gave  the  man  each  time  a  link 
from  the  golden  chain  he  had  worn  and  which  was 
still  about  his  neck  when  he  left  the  palace.  Three- 
and-thirty  links  were  gone  since  he  had  come  there, 
and  the  chain  was  shorter  by  more  than  half  its  length. 
It  would  last  until  the  thousand  days  were  accom- 
plished, and  there  would  still  be  much  left.  Aura- 
mazda,  the  All-Wise,  would  provide. 

Zoroaster  sat  by  the  spring  and  watched  the  crystal 
waters  sparkle  in  the  brief  hour  of  sunshine  at  noon- 
day, and  turn  dark  and  deep  again  when  the  light 
was  gone.  He  moved  not  through  the  long  hours  of 
day,  sitting  as  he  had  sat  in  that  place  now  for  three 


182  ZOROASTER. 

years  neither  scorched  by  the  short  hours  of  sunlight, 
nor  cliilled  by  winter's  frost  and  snow.  The  wild 
long-haired  sheep  of  the  mountain  came  down  to 
drink  at  noon,  and  timidly  gazed  with  their  stupid 
eyes  at  the  immovable  figure ;  and  at  evening  the 
long-bodied,  fierce-eyed  wolves  would  steal  stealthily 
among  the  rocks  and  come  and  snuff  the  ground 
about  his  feet,  presently  raising  their  pointed  heads 
with  a  long  howl  of  fear,  and  galloping  away  through 
the  dusk  in  terror,  as  though  at  something  unearthly. 

And  when  at  last  the  night  was  come,  Zoroaster 
arose  and  went  to  the  spot  where  the  rocks,  overhang- 
ing together,  left  a  space  through  which  one  might 
enter ;  and  the  white-haired  man  gave  one  long  look 
at  the  stars  overhead,  and  disappeared  within. 

There  was  a  vast  cave,  the  roof  reaching  high  up 
in  a  great  vault;  the  sides  black  and  polished,  as 
though  smoothed  by  the  hands  of  cunning  workmen ; 
the  floor  a  bed  of  soft,  black  sand,  dry  and  even  as 
the  untrodden  desert.  In  the  midst,  a  boulder  of 
black  rock  lay  like  a  huge  ball,  and  upon  its  summit 
burned  a  fire  that  was  never  quenched,  and  that 
needed  no  replenisliing  with  fuel.  The  tall  pointed 
flame  shed  a  strangely  white  light  around,  that 
flashed  and  sparkled  upon  the  smooth  black  walls 
of  the  cavern,  as  though  they  were  mirrors.  The 
flame  also  was  immovable  ;  it  neither  flickered,  nor 
rose,  nor  fell;  but  stood  as  it  were  a  spear-head  of 
incandescent  gold  upon  the  centre  of  the  dark  altar. 
There  was  no  smoke  from  that  strange  fire,  nor  any 
heat  near  it,  as  from  other  fires. 

Then  Zoroaster  bent  and  put  forth  his  forefinger 


ZOROASTER.  183 

and  traced  a  figure  upon  the  sand,  which  was  like  a 
circle,  save  that  it  was  cut  from  north-west  to  south- 
east by  two  straight  lines,  and  from  north-east  to 
south-west  by  two  straight  lines ;  and  at  each  of  the 
four  small  arcs,  where  the  straight  lines  cut  the  cir- 
cumference of  the  great  circle,  a  part  of  a  smaller 
circle  outside  the  great  one  united  the  points  over 
each  other.  And  upon  the  east  side,  toward  the 
altar,  the  great  circle  was  not  joined,  but  open  for  a 
short  distance.^ 

When  the  figure  was  traced,  Zoroaster  came  out 
from  it  and  touched  the  black  rock  whereon  the  fire 
burned ;  and  then  he  turned  back  and  entered  the 
circle,  and  with  his  fingers  joined  it  where  it  was 
open  on  the  east  side  through  which  he  had  entered. 
And  immediately,  as  the  circle  was  completed,  there 
sprung  up  over  the  whole  line  he  had  traced  a  soft 
light;  like  that  of  the  fire,  but  less  strong.  Then 
Zoroaster  lay  down  upon  his  back,  with  his  feet  to 
the  west  and  his  head  toward  the  altar,  and  he 
folded  his  hands  upon  his  breast  and  closed  his  eyes. 
As  he  lay,  his  body  became  rigid  and  his  face  as  the 
face  of  the  dead;  and  his  spirit  was  loosed  in  the 
trance  and  freed  from  the  bonds  of  earth,  while  his 
limbs  rested. 

Lying  there,  separated  from  the  world,  cut  off 
within  the  circle  of  a  symbolised  death  by  the  light 
of  the  universal  agent,^  Zoroaster  dreamed  dreams 
and  saw  visions. 

1  The  Mazdayashnian  Dakhma,  or  place  of  death.  This  figure 
represents  the  ground-plan  of  the  modern  Parsi  Tower  of  Silence. 

2  The  term  "  universal  agent "  has  been  used  in  the  mysticism  of 


184  ZOKO  ASTER. 

His  mind  was  first  opened  to  the  understanding  of 
those  broader  conceptions  of  space  and  time  of  which 
he  had  read  in  the  books  of  Daniel,  his  master.  He 
had  understood  the  principles  then,  but  he  had  not 
realised  their  truth.  He  was  too  intimately  con- 
nected with  the  life  around  him,  to  be  able  to  see  in 
the  clearer  light  which  penetrates  with  universal  truth 
all  the  base  forms  of  perishable  matter. 

Daniel  had  taught  him  the  first  great  principles. 
All  men,  in  their  ignorance,  speak  of  the  infinities  of 
space  and  time  as  being  those  ideas  which  man  can- 
not of  himself  grasp  or  understand.  Man,  they  say, 
is  limited  in  capacity  ;  he  can,  therefore,  not  compre- 
hend the  infinite.  A  greater  fault  than  this  could  not 
be  committed  by  a  thinking  being.  For  infinity 
being  unending,  it  is  incapable  of  being  limited ;  it 
rejects  definition,  which  belongs,  by  its  nature,  to  finite 
things.  For  definition  means  the  placing  of  bounds, 
and  that  which  is  in-finite  can  have  no  bounds.  The 
man,  therefore,  who  seeks  to  bound  what  has  no 
bounds,  endeavours  to  define  what  is,  by  its  nature, 
undefinable;  and  finding  that  the  one  poor  means 
which  he  has  of  conveying  fallacious  impressions  of 
illusory  things  to  his  mind  through  his  deadened 
senses,  is  utterly  insufiicient  to  give  him  an  idea  of 
what  alone  is  real,  he  takes  refuge  in  his  crass  igno- 
rance and  coarse  grossness  of  language,  and  asserts 
boldly  that  the  human  mind  is  too  limited  in  its  nature 
to  conceive  of  infinite  space,  or  of  infinite  time. 

ages,  to  designate  that  subtle  and  all-pervading  fluid,  of  which  the 
phenomena  of  light,  heat,  electricity  and  vitality  are  considered  to 
be  but  the  grosser  and  more  palpable  manifestations. 


ZOROASTER.  185 

Not  only  is  the  untrammelled  mind  of  man  capable 
of  these  bolder  conceptions,  but  even  the  wretched 
fool  who  sees  in  the  material  world  the  whole  of  what 
man  can  know,  could  never  get  so  far  as  to  think  even 
of  the  delusive  objects  on  which  he  pins  his  foolish 
faith,  unless  the  very  mind  which  he  insults  and  mis- 
understands, had  by  its  nature  that  infinite  capacity 
of  comprehension  which,  he  says,  exists  not.  For 
otherwise,  if  the  mind  be  limited,  there  must  be  a 
definite  limit  to  its  comprehensive  faculty,  and  it  is 
easy  to  conceive  that  such  a  limit  would  soon  become 
apparent  to  every  student ;  as  apparent  as  it  is  that  a 
being,  confined  within  three  dimensions  of  space,  can- 
not, without  altering  his  nature,  escape  from  these 
three  dimensions,  nor  from  the  laws  which  govern 
matter  having  length,  breadth  and  thickness  alone, 
without  the  external  fourth  dimension,  with  its  inter- 
changeability  of  exterior  and  interior  angles. 

The  very  thought  that  infinite  space  cannot  be  un- 
'-=*  derstood,  is  itself  a  proof  that  the  mind  uncon- 
sciously realises  the  precise  nature  of  such  infinity,  in 
attributing  to  it  at  once  the  all-comprehensiveness 
from  which  there  is  no  escape,  in  which  all  dimensions 
exist,  and  by  virtue  of  which  all  other  conceptions 
become  possible;  since  this  infinite  space  contains  in 
itself  all  dimensions  of  existence  —  transitory,  real 
and  potential;  and  if  the  capacity  of  the  mind  is 
co-extensive  with  the  capacity  of  infinite  space, 
since  it  feels  itself  undoubtedly  capable  of  grasping 
any  limited  idea  contained  in  any  portion  of  the  illim- 
itable whole,  it  follows  that  the  mind  is  of  itself  as 
infinite  as  the  space  in  which  all  created  things  have 


186  ZOROASTER. 

their  transitory  form  of  being,  and  in  which  all 
uncreated  truths  exist  eternally.  The  mind  is  aware 
of  infinity  by  that  true  sort  of  knowledge  which  is  an 
intimate  conviction  not  dependent  upon  the  operation 
of  the  senses. 

Gradually,  too,  as  Zoroaster  fixed  his  intuition  upon 
the  first  main  principle  of  all  possible  knowledge,  he 
became  aware  of  the  chief  cause  —  of  the  universal 
principal  of  vivifying  essence,  which  pervades  all 
things,  and  in  which  arises  motion  as  the  original 
generator  of  transitory  being.  The  great  law  of  divi- 
sion  became  clear  to  him  —  the  separation  for  a  time 
of  the  universal  agent  into  two  parts,  by  the  separa- 
tion and  reuniting  of  which  comes  light  and  heat  and 
the  hidden  force  of  life,  and  the  prime  rules  of  attrac- 
tive action;  all  things  that  are  accounted  material. 
He  saw  the  division  of  darkness  and  light,  and  how 
all  things  that  are  in  the  darkness  are  reflected  in  the 
light ;  and  how  the  light  which  we  call  light  is  in 
reality  darkness  made  visible,  whereas  the  true  light 
is  not  visible  to  the  eyes  that  are  darkened  by  the 
gross  veil  of  transitory  being.  And  as  from  the  night 
of  earth,  his  eyes  were  gradually  opened  to  the  astral 
day,  he  knew  that  the  forms  that  move  and  have 
being  in  the  night  are  perishable  and  utterly  unreal ; 
whereas  the  purer  being  which  is  reflected  in  the  real 
light  is  true  and  endures  for  ever. 

Then,  by  his  knowledge  and  power,  and  by  the 
light  that  was  in  him,  he  divided  the  portion  of  the 
universal  agent  that  was  in  the  cave  where  he  dwelt 
into  two  portions,  and  caused  them  to  reunite  in  the 
midst  upon  the  stone  that  was  there ;  and  the  flame 


ZOROASTER.  187 

burned  silently  and  without  heat  upon  his  altar,  day 
and  night,  without  intermission ;  and  by  the  division 
of  the  power  within  him,  he  could  divide  the  power 
also  that  was  latent  in  other  transitory  beings,  accord- 
ing to  those  laws  which,  being  eternal,  are  manifested 
in  things  not  eternal,  but  perishable. 

And  further,  he  meditated  upon  the  seven  parts  of 
man,  and  upon  their  separation,  and  upon  the  differ- 
ence of  their  nature. 

For  the  first  element  of  man  is  perishable  matter. 

And  the  second  element  of  man  is  the  portion  of 
the  universal  agent  which  gives  him  life. 

And  the  third  element  of  man  is  the  reflection  of 
his  perishable  substance  in  the  astral  light,  coincident 
with  him,  but  not  visible  to  his  earthly  eye. 

The  fourth  element  of  man  is  made  up  of  all  the 
desires  he  feels  by  his  material  senses.  This  part  is 
not  real  being,  nor  transitory  being,  but  a  result. 

The  fifth  element  of  man  is  that  which  says :  "  I 
am,"  whereby  a  man  knows  himself  from  other  men ; 
and  with  it  there  is  an  intelligence  of  lower  things, 
but  no  intelligence  of  things  higher. 

The  sixth  element  is  the  pure  understanding,  eter- 
nal and  co-extensive  with  all  infinity  of  time  and 
space — real,  imperishable,  invisible  to  the  eye  of  man. 

The  seventh  element  is  the  soul  from  God. 

Upon  these  things  Zoroaster  meditated  long,  and 
as  his  perishable  body  became  weakened  and  emaci- 
ated with  fasting  and  contemplation,  he  was  aware 
that,  at  times,  the  universal  agent  ceased  to  be  de- 
composed and  recomposed  in  the  nerves  of  his  mate- 
rial part,  so  that  his  body  became  as  though  dead, 


188  ZOROASTER. 

and  with  it  the  fourth  element  which  represents  the 
sense  of  mortal  desires  ;  and  he  himself,  the  three 
highest  elements  of  him,  —  his  individuality,  his  in- 
telligence and  his  soul,  —  became  separated  for  a 
time  from  all  that  weighed  them  down;  and  his 
mind's  eyes  were  opened,  and  he  saw  clearly  in  the 
astral  light,  with  an  intuitive  knowledge  of  true 
things,  and  false. 

And  so,  night  after  night,  he  lay  upon  the  floor  of 
his  cavern,  rigid  and  immovable ;  his  body  protected 
from  all  outer  harmful  influences  by  the  circle  of 
light  he  had  acquired  the  power  of  producing.  For 
though  there  was  no  heat  in  the  flame,  no  mortal 
breathing  animal  could  so  much  as  touch  it  with  the 
smallest  part  of  his  body  without  being  instantly  de- 
stroyed as  by  lightning.  And  so  he  was  protected 
from  all  harm  in  his  trances ;  and  he  left  his  body  at 
will  and  returned  to  it,  and  it  breathed  again,  and 
was  alive. 

So  he  saw  into  the  past  and  into  the  present  and 
into  the  future,  and  his  soul  was  purified  beyond  the 
purity  of  man,  and  soared  upwards,  and  dreamed  of 
the  eternal  good  and  of  the  endless  truth;  and  at  last 
it  seemed  to  him  that  he  should  leave  his  body  in  its 
trance,  and  never  return  to  it,  nor  let  it  breathe 
again.  For  since  it  was  possible  thus  to  cast  off  mor- 
tality and  put  on  immortality,  it  seemed  to  him  that 
it  was  but  a  weariness  to  take  up  the  flesh  and  wear 
it,  when  it  was  so  easy  to  lay  it  down.  Almost  he 
had  determined  that  he  would  then  let  death  come, 
as  it  were  unawares,  upon  his  perishable  substance, 
and  remain  for  ever  in  the  new  life  he  had  found. 


ZOROASTER.  189 

But  as  his  spirit  thought  in  this  wise,  he  heard  a 
voice  speaking  to  him,  and  he  listened. 

"  One  moment  is  as  another,  and  there  is  no  differ- 
ence between  one  time  and  another  time. 

"  One  moment  in  eternity  is  of  as  great  value  as 
another  moment,  for  eternity  changes  not,  neither  is 
one  part  of  it  better  than  another  part. 

"Though  man  be  immortal  as  to  his  soul,  he  is 
mortal  as  to  his  body,  and  the  time  which  his  soul 
shall  spend  in  his  body  is  of  as  great  worth  to  him  as 
the  time  which  he  shall  spend  without  it. 

"  Think  not  that  by  wilfully  abandoning  the  body, 
even  though  you  have  the  power  and  the  knowledge 
to  do  so,  you  will  escape  from  the  state  in  which  it 
has  pleased  God  to  put  you. 

"Rather  shall  your  pain  and  the  time  of  your 
suffering  be  increased,  because  you  have  not  done 
with  the  body  that  which  the  body  shall  do. 

"  The  life  of  the  soul  while  it  is  in  the  body,  has 
as  much  value  as  when  it  has  left  it.  You  shall  not 
shorten  the  time  of  dwelling  in  the  flesh. 

"  Though  you  know  all  things,  you  know  not  God. 
For  though  you  know  your  body  which  is  in  the 
world,  and  the  world  which  is  in  time,  and  time  which 
is  in  space,  yet  your  knowledge  goeth  no  farther,  for 
space  and  all  that  therein  is,  is  in  God.^ 

"You  have  learned  earthly  things  and  heavenly 
things.  Learn  then  that  you  shall  not  escape  the 
laws  of  earth  while  you  are  on  earth,  nor  the  laws  of 
heaven  when  you  are  in  heaven.  Lift  up  your  heart 
to  God,  but  do  in  the  body  those  things  which  are  of 
the  body. 

1  Hermes  Trismegistus,  Pcemandres  xi.  2. 


190  ZOROASTER. 

"  There  are  other  men  put  into  the  world  besides 
you.  If  you  leave  the  world,  what  does  your  knowl- 
edge profit  other  men  ?  And  yet  it  is  to  profit  other 
men  that  God  has  put  you  into  the  world. 

"  And  not  you  only,  but  every  man.  The  labour  of 
man  is  to  man,  and  the  labour  of  angels  to  angels. 
But  the  time  of  man  is  as  valuable  in  the  sight  of 
God,  as  the  time  of  angels. 

"All  things  that  are  not  accomplished  in  their 
time  shall  be  left  unaccomplished  for  ever  and  ever. 
If  while  you  are  in  the  flesh,  you  accomplish  not  the 
things  of  the  flesh  after  the  manner  of  your  humanity, 
you  shall  enter  into  the  life  of  the  spirit  as  one  blind, 
or  maimed ;  for  your  part  is  not  fulfilled. 

"  Wisdom  is  this.  A  man  shall  not  care  for  the 
things  of  the  world  for  himself,  and  his  soul  shall  be 
lifted  and  raised  above  all  that  is  mean  and  perishable ; 
but  he  shall  perform  his  part  without  murmuring. 
He  shall  not  forget  the  perishable  things,  though  he 
soar  to  the  imperishable. 

"  For  man  is  to  man  as  one  portion  of  eternity  to 
another ;  and  as  eternity  would  be  imperfect  if  one 
moment  could  be  removed,  so  also  the  earth  would  be 
imperfect  if  one  man  should  be  taken  from  it  before 
his  appointed  time. 

"  If  a  man  therefore  take  himself  out  of  the  world, 
he  causes  imperfection,  and  sins  against  perfection, 
which  is  the  law  of  God. 

"  Though  the  world  be  in  darkness,  the  darkness  is 
necessary  to  the  light.  Though  the  world  perish, 
and  heaven  perish  not  for  ever,  yet  is  the  perishable 
necessary  to  the  eternal. 


ZOROASTER.  191 

"For  the  transitory  and  the  unchangeable  exist 
alike  in  eternity  and  are  portions  of  it.  And  one 
moment  is  as  another,  and  there  is  no  difference  be- 
tween one  time  and  another  time. 

"  Go,  therefore,  and  take  up  your  body,  and  dc 
with  it  the  deeds  of  the  body  among  men ;  for  yoL 
have  deeds  to  do,  and  unless  they  are  done  in  their 
time,  which  is  now,  they  will  be  unfulfilled  for  ever, 
and  you  will  become  an  imperfect  spirit. 

"  The  imperfect  spirit  shall  be  finally  destroyed,  for 
nothing  that  is  imperfect  shall  endure.  To  be  perfect 
all  things  must  be  fulfilled,  all  deeds  done,  in  the 
season  while  the  spirit  is  in  darkness  with  the  body. 
The  deeds  perish,  and  the  body  which  doeth  them, 
but  the  soul  of  the  perfect  man  is  eternal,  and  the  re- 
flection of  what  he  has  done,  abides  for  ever  in  the  light. 

"  Hasten,  for  your  time  is  short.  You  have  learned 
all  things  that  are  lawful  to  be  learnt,  and  your  deeds 
shall  be  sooner  accomplished. 

"  Hasten,  for  one  moment  is  as  another,  and  there 
is  no  difference  between  the  value  of  one  time  and  of 
another  time. 

"The  moment  which  passes  returns  not,  and  the 
thing  which  a  man  should  do  in  one  time  cannot  be 
done  in  another  time." 

The  voice  ceased,  and  the  spirit  of  Zoroaster  re- 
turned to  his  body  in  the  cave,  and  his  eyes  opened. 
Then  he  rose,  and  standing  within  the  circle,  cast 
sand  upon  the  portion  towards  the  east ;  and  so  soon 
as  the  circle  was  broken,  it  was  extinguished  and 
ther3  remained  nothing  but  the  marks  Zoroaster  had 
traced  with  his  fingers  upon  the  black  sand. 


192  ZOROASTER. 

He  drew  his  tattered  mantle  around  him,  and  went 
to  the  entrance  of  the  cave,  and  passed  out.  And  it 
was  night. 

Overhead,  the  full  moon  cast  her  broad  rays  verti- 
cally into  the  little  valley,  and  the  smooth  black 
stones  gleamed  darkly.  The  reflection  caught  the 
surface  of  the  little  pool  by  the  spring,  and  it  was 
turned  to  a  silver  shield  of  light. 

Zoroaster  came  forward  and  stood  beside  the  foun- 
tain, and  the  glory  of  the  moon  fell  upon  his  white 
locks  and  beard  and  on  the  long  white  hand  he  laid 
upon  the  rock. 

His  acute  senses,  sharpened  beyond  those  of  men 
by  long  solitude  and  fasting,  distinguished  the  step 
of  a  man  far  up  the  height  on  the  distant  crags,  and 
his  keen  sight  soon  detected  a  figure  descending 
cautiously,  but  surely,  towards  the  deep  abyss  where 
Zoroaster  stood.  More  and  more  clearly  he  saw  him, 
till  the  man  was  near,  and  stood  upon  an  overhang- 
ing boulder  within  speaking  distance.  He  was  the 
shepherd  who,  from  time  to  time,  brought  food  to 
the  solitary  mystic ;  and  who  alone,  of  all  the  goat- 
herds in  those  hills,  would  have  dared  to  invade  the 
sacred  precincts  of  Zoroaster's  retreat.  He  was  a 
brave  fellow,  but  the  sight  of  the  lonely  man  by  the 
fountain  awed  him;  it  seemed  as  though  his  white 
hair  emitted  a  light  of  its  own  under  the  rays  of  the 
moon,  and  he  paused  in  fear  lest  the  unearthly  ascetic 
should  do  him  some  mortal  hurt. 

"Wilt  thou  harm  me  if  I  descend?"  he  called  out 
timidly. 

"  I  harm  no  man,"  answered  Zoroaster.  "  Come  in 
peace." 


ZOROASTER.  193 

The  active  shepherd  swung  himself  from  the  boul- 
der, and  in  a  few  moments  he  stood  among  the  stones 
at  the  bottom,  a  few  paces  from  the  man  he  sought. 
He  was  a  dark  fellow,  clad  in  goat-skins,  with  pieces 
of  leather  bound  around  his  short,  stout  legs.  His 
voice  was  hoarse,  perhaps  with  some  still  uncon- 
quered  fear,  and  his  staff  rattled  as  he  steadied  him- 
self among  the  stones. 

"Art  not  thou  he  who  is  called  Zoroaster?"  he 
asked. 

"  I  am  he,"  answered  the  mystic.  "  What  wouldest 
thou?" 

"Thou  knowest  that  the  Great  King  with  his 
queens  and  his  court  are  at  the  palace  of  Stakhar," 
replied  the  man.  "  I  go  thither  from  time  to  time  to 
sell  cheeses  to  the  slaves.  The  Great  King  has  made 
a  proclamation  that  whosoever  shall  bring  before  him 
Zoroaster  shall  receive  a  talent  of  gold  and  a  robe  of 
purple.  I  am  a  poor  shepherd — fearest  thou  to  go 
to  the  palace  ?  " 

"  I  fear  nothing.   I  am  past  fear  these  three  years." 

"  Will  the  Great  King  harm  thee,  thinkest  thou  ? 
Thou  hast  paid  me  well  for  my  pains  since  I  first 
saw  thee,  and  I  would  not  have  thee  hurt." 

"  No  man  can  harm  me.   My  time  is  not  yet  come." 

"  Wilt  thou  go  with  me  ?  "  cried  the  shepherd,  in 
sudden  delight.  "  And  shall  I  have  the  gold  and  the 
robe  ?  " 

"  I  will  go  with  thee.  Thou  shalt  have  all  thou 
wouldest,"  answered  Zoroaster.  "Art  thou  ready? 
I  have  no  goods  to  burden  me." 

"  But  thou  art  old,"  objected  the  shepherd,  coming 
o 


194  ZOROASTER. 

nearer.  "  Canst  thou  go  so  far  on  foot  ?  I  have  a 
beast;  I  will  return  with  him  in  the  morning,  and 
meet  thee  upon  the  height.  I  came  hither  in  haste, 
being  but  just  returned  from  Stakhar  with  the  news." 

"  I  am  younger  than  thou,  though  my  hair  is  white. 
I  will  go  with  thee.     Lead  the  way." 

He  stooped  and  drank  of  the  fountain  in  the  moon- 
light, from  the  hollow  of  his  hand.  Then  he  turned, 
and  began  to  ascend  the  steep  side  of  the  valley. 
The  shepherd  led  the  wa}^  in  silence,  overcome  be= 
tween  his  awe  of  the  man  and  his  delight  at  his  own 
good  fortune. 


ZOROASTER.  195 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

It  was  now  three  years  since  Nehushta  had  been 
married  to  Darius,  and  the  king  loved  her  well.  But 
often,  in  that  time,  he  had  been  away  from  her,  called 
to  different  parts  of  the  kingdom  by  the  sudden  out- 
breaks of  revolution  which  filled  the  early  years  of 
his  reign.  Each  time  he  had  come  back  in  triumph, 
and  each  time  he  had  given  her  some  rich  gift.  He 
found  indeed  that  he  had  no  easy  task  to  perform 
in  keeping  the  peace  between  his  two  queens  ;  for 
Atossa  seemed  to  delight  in  annoying  Nehushta  and 
in  making  her  feel  that  she  was  but  the  second  in 
the  king's  favour,  whatever  distinctions  might  be 
offered  her.  But  Darius  was  just  and  was  careful 
that  Atossa  should  receive  her  due,  neither  more  nor 
less. 

Nehushta  was  glad  when  Zoroaster  was  gone.  She 
had  suffered  terribly  in  that  moment  when  he  had 
spoken  to  her  out  of  the  crowd,  and  the  winged  word 
had  made  a  wound  that  rankled  still.  In  those  three 
years  that  passed,  Atossa  never  undeceived  her  con- 
cerning the  sight  she  had  seen,  and  she  still  believed 
that  Zoroaster  had  basely  betrayed  her.  It  was  im- 
possible, in  her  view,  that  it  could  be  otherwise. 
Had  she  not  seen  him  herself?  Could  any  man  do 
such  an  action  who  was  not  utterly  base  and  heart- 
less ?     She  had,  of  course,  never  spoken  to  Darius  of 


196  ZOROASTER. 

the  scene  upon  the  terrace.  She  did  not  desire  the 
destruction  of  Atossa,  nor  of  her  faithless  lover. 
Amid  all  the  tender  kindness  the  king  lavished  upon 
her,  the  memory  of  her  first  love  endured  still,  and 
she  could  not  have  suffered  the  pain  of  going  over 
the  whole  story  again.  He  was  gone,  perhaps  dead, 
and  she  would  never  see  him  again.  He  would  not 
dare  to  set  foot  in  the  court.  She  remembered  the 
king's  furious  anger  against  him,  when  he  suspected 
that  the  hooded  man  in  the  procession  was  Zoro- 
aster. But  Darius  had  afterwards  said,  in  his  usual 
careless  way,  that  he  himself  would  have  done  as 
much,  and  that  for  his  oath's  sake,  he  would  never 
harm  the  young  Persian.  By  the  grace  of  Aura- 
mazda  he  swore,  he  was  the  king  of  kings  and  did 
not  make  war  upon  disappointed  lovers ! 

Meanwhile,  Darius  had  built  himself  a  magnificent 
palace,  below  the  fortress  of  Stakhar,  in  the  valley  of 
the  Araxes,  and  there  he  spent  the  winter  and  the 
spring,  when  the  manifold  cares  of  the  state  would 
permit  him.  He  had  been  almost  unceasingly  at  war 
with  the  numerous  pretenders  who  set  themselves  up 
for  petty  kings  in  the  provinces.  With  unheard-of 
rapidity,  he  moved  from  one  quarter  of  his  dominions 
to  another,  from  east  to  west,  from  north  to  south ; 
but  each  time  that  he  returned,  he  found  some  little 
disturbance  going  on  at  the  court,  and  he  bent  his 
brows  and  declared  that  a  parcel  of  women  were 
harder  to  govern  than  all  Media,  Persia,  and  Babylon 
together. 

Atossa  wearied  him  with  her  suggestions. 

"  When  the  king  is  gone  upon  an  expedition,"  she 


ZOROASTER.  197 

said,  "  there  is  no  head  in  the  palace.  Otanes  is  a 
weak  man.  The  king  will  not  give  me  the  control 
of  the  household,  neither  will  he  give  it  to  any  one 
else." 

"  There  is  no  one  whom  I  can  trust,"  answered 
Darius.  *'  Can  you  not  dwell  together  in  peace  for  a 
month  ?  " 

"  No,"  answered  Atossa,  with  her  winning  smile,  "  it 
is  impossible  ;  the  king's  wives  will  never  agree  among 
themselves.  Let  the  king  choose  some  one  and  make 
a  head  over  the  palace." 

*'  Whom  shall  I  choose  ?  "  asked  Darius,  moodily. 

"  The  king  had  a  faithful  servant  once,"  suggested 
Atossa. 

"  Have  I  none  now?  " 

"  Yea,  but  none  so  faithful  as  this  man  of  whom  I 
speak,  nor  so  ready  to  do  the  king's  bidding.  He  de- 
parted from  Shushan  when  the  king  took  Nehushta 
to  wife " 

"Mean  you  Zoroaster?"  asked  Darius,  bending  his 
brows,  and  eyeing  Atossa  somewhat  fiercely.  But  she 
met  his  glance  with  indifference. 

"  The  same,"  she  answered.  "  Why  not  send  for 
him  and  make  him  governor  of  the  palace  ?  He  was 
indeed  a  faithful  servant  —  and  a  willing  one." 

Still  the  king  gazed  hard  at  her  face,  as  though 
trying  to  fathom  the  reason  of  her  request,  or  at  least 
to  detect  some  scornful  look  upon  her  face  to  agree 
with  her  sneering  words.  But  he  was  no  match  for 
the  unparalleled  astuteness  of  Atossa,  though  he  had  a 
vague  suspicion  that  she  wished  to  annoy  him  by  calling 
up  a  memory  which  she  knew  could  not  be  pleasant, 
and  he  retorted  in  his  own  fashion. 


198  ZOROASTER. 

"  If  Zoroaster  be  yet  alive  I  will  have  him  brought, 
and  I  will  make  him  governor  of  the  palace.  He  was 
indeed  a  faithful  servant  —  he  shall  rule  you  all  and 
there  shall  be  no  more  discord  among  you." 

And  forthwith  the  king  issued  a  proclamation  that 
whosoever  should  bring  Zoroaster  before  him  should 
receive  a  talent  of  gold  and  a  robe  of  purple  as  a 
reward. 

But  when  Nehushta  heard  of  it  she  was  greatly 
troubled ;  for  Atossa  began  to  tell  her  that  Zoroaster 
was  to  return  and  to  be  made  governor  of  the  palace ; 
but  Nehushta  rose  and  left  her  forthwith,  with  such  a 
look  of  dire  hatred  and  scorn  that  even  the  cold  queen 
thought  she  had,  perhaps,  gone  too  far. 

There  were  other  reasons  why  the  king  desired 
Zoroaster's  return.  He  had  often  wondered  secretly 
how  the  man  could  so  have  injured  Nehushta  as  to 
turn  her  love  into  hate  in  a  few  moments ;  but  he  had 
never  questioned  her.  It  was  a  subject  neither  of 
them  could  have  approached,  and  Darius  was  far  too 
happy  in  his  marriage  to  risk  endangering  that  hap- 
piness by  any  untoward  discovery.  Nehushta's  grief 
and  anger  had  been  so  genuine  when  she  told  him  of 
Zoroaster's  treachery  that  it  had  never  occurred  to 
him  that  he  might  be  injuring  the  latter  in  marrying 
the  princess,  though  his  generous  heart  had  told  him 
more  than  once,  that  Nehushta  had  married  him  half 
from  gratitude  for  his  kindness,  and  half  out  of 
anger  with  her  false  lover;  but,  capricious  as  she 
was  in  all  other  things,  towards  the  king  she  was 
always  the  same,  gentle  and  affectionate,  though 
there  was  nothing  passionate  in  her  love.     And  now, 


ZOROASTER.  199 

the  idea  of  seeing  the  man  who  had  betrayed  her 
installed  in  an  official  position  in  the  palace,  was 
terrible  to  her  pride.  She  could  not  sleep  for  think- 
ing how  she  should  meet  him,  and  what  she  should 
do.  She  grew  pale  and  hollow-eyed  with  the  antici- 
pation of  evil  and  all  her  peace  went  from  her. 
Deep  down  in  her  heart  there  was  yet  a  clinging 
affection  for  the  old  love,  which  she  smothered  and 
choked  down  bravely ;  but  it  was  there  nevertheless, 
a  sleeping  giant,  ready  to  rise  and  overthrow  her 
whole  nature  in  a  moment,  if  only  she  could  wash 
away  the  stain  of  faithlessness  which  sullied  his  fair 
memory,  and  lift  the  load  of  dishonour  which  had 
crushed  him  from  the  sovereign  place  he  had  held  in 
the  dominion  of  her  soul. 

Darius  was  himself  curious  to  ascertain  the  truth 
about  Zoroaster's  conduct.  But  another  and  a  weigh- 
tier reason  existed  for  which  he  wished  him  to  return. 
The  king  was  disturbed  about  a  matter  of  vital  im- 
portance to  his  kingdom,  and  he  knew  that,  among 
all  his  subjects,  there  was  not  one  more  able  to  give 
him  assistance  and  advice  than  Zoroaster,  the  pupil 
of  the  dead  prophet  Daniel. 

The  religion  of  the  kingdom  was  of  a  most  uncer- 
tain  kind.  So  many  changes  had  passed  over  the 
various  provinces  which  made  up  the  great  empire 
that,  for  generations,  there  had  been  almost  a  new 
religion  for  every  monarch.  Cyrus,  inclining  to  the 
idolatry  of  the  Phoenicians,  had  worshipped  the  sun 
and  moon,  and  had  built  temples  and  done  sacrifice 
to  them  and  to  a  multitude  of  deities.  Cambyses  had 
converted  the  temples  of  his  father  into  places  of  fire- 


200  ZOROASTER. 

worship,  and  had  burnt  thousands  of  human  victims ; 
rejoicing  in  the  splendour  of  his  ceremonies  and  in 
the  fierce  love  of  blood  that  grew  upon  him  as  his 
vices  obtained  the  mastery  over  his  better  sense.  But 
under  both  kings  the  old  Aryan  worship  of  the 
Magians  had  existed  among  the  people,  and  the 
Magians  themselves  had  asserted,  whenever  they 
dared,  their  right  to  be  considered  the  priestly  caste, 
the  children  of  the  Brahmins  of  the  Aryan  house. 
Gomata  —  the  false  Smerdis — was  a  Brahmin,  at 
least  in  name,  and  probably  in  descent ;  and  during 
his  brief  reign  the  only  decrees  he  issued  from  his 
retirement  in  the  palace  of  Shushan,  were  for  the 
destruction  of  the  existing  temples  and  the  establish- 
ment of  the  Magian  worship  throughout  the  kingdom. 
When  Darius  had  slain  Smerdis,  he  naturally  pro- 
ceeded to  the  destruction  of  the  Magi,  and  the  streets 
of  Shushan  ran  with  their  blood  for  many  days.  He 
then  restored  the  temples  and  the  worship  of  Aura- 
mazda,  as  well  as  he  was  able ;  but  it  soon  became 
evident  that  the  religion  was  in  a  disorganised  state 
and  that  it  would  be  no  easy  matter  to  enforce  a  pure 
monotheism  upon  a  nation  of  men  who,  in  their  hearts, 
were  Magians,  nature-worshippers  ;  and  who,  through 
successive  reigns,  had  been  driven  by  force  to  the 
adoration  of  strange  idols.  It  followed  that  the 
people  resisted  the  change  and  revolted  whenever 
they  could  find  a  leader.  The  numerous  revolutions, 
which  cost  Darius  no  less  than  nineteen  battles,  were, 
almost  without  exception,  brought  about  in  the  at- 
tempt to  restore  the  Magian  worship  in  various  prov- 
inces of  the  kingdom,  and  it  may  well  be  doubted 


ZOROASTER.  201 

whether,  at  any  time  in  the  world's  history,  an  equal 
amount  of  blood  was  ever  shed  in  so  short  a  period  in 
the  defence  of  religious  convictions. 

Darius  himself  was  a  man  who  had  the  strongest 
belief  in  the  power  of  Auramazda,  the  All-Wise  God, 
and  who  did  not  hesitate  to  attribute  all  the  evil  in 
the  world  to  Ahriman,  the  devil.  He  had  a  bitter 
contempt  for  all  idolatry,  nature-worship  and  super- 
stition generally,  and  he  adhered  in  his  daily  life  to 
the  simple  practices  of  the  ancient  Mazdayashnians. 
But  he  was  totally  unfitted  to  be  the  head  of  a 
religious  movement ;  and,  although  he  had  collected 
such  of  the  priesthood  as  seemed  most  worthy,  and  had 
built  them  temples  and  given  them  privileges  of  all 
kinds,  he  was  far  from  satisfied  with  their  mode  of 
worship.  He  could  not  frame  a  new  doctrine,  but  he 
had  serious  doubts  whether  the  ceremonies  his  priests 
performed  were  as  simple  and  religious  as  he  wished 
them  to  be.  The  chants,  long  hymns  of  endless  repe- 
tition and  monotony,  were  well  enough,  perhaps  ;  the 
fire  that  was  kept  burning  perpetually  was  a  fitting 
emblem  of  the  sleepless  wisdom  and  activity  of  the 
Supreme  Being  in  overcoming  darkness  with  light. 
But  the  boundless  intoxication  into  which  the  priests 
threw  themselves  by  the  excessive  drinking  of  the 
Haoma,  the  wild  and  irregular  acts  of  frenzy  by 
which  they  expressed  their  religious  fervour  when 
under  the  influence  of  the  subtle  drink,  were  adjuncts 
to  the  simple  purity  of  the  bloodless  sacrifice  which 
disgusted  the  king,  and  he  hesitated  long  as  to  some 
reform  in  these  matters.  The  oldest  Mazdayashnians 
declared  that  the  drinking  of  Haoma  was  an  act,  at 


202  ZOROASTER. 

unce  pleasing  to  God  and  necessary  to  stimulate  the 
zeal  of  the  priests  in  the  long  and  monotonous  chant- 
ing, which  would  otherwise  soon  sink  to  a  mere 
perfunctory  performance  of  a  wearisome  task.  The 
very  repetition  which  the  hymns  contained  seemed  to 
prove  that  they  were  not  intended  to  be  recited  by 
men  not  under  some  extraordinary  influence.  Only 
the  wild  madness  of  the  Haoma  drinker  could  sustain 
such  an  endless  series  of  repeated  prayers  with  fitting 
devotion  and  energy. 

All  this  the  king  heard  and  was  not  satisfied.  He 
attended  the  ceremonies  with  becoming  regularity  and 
sat  through  the  performance  of  the  rites  with  exem- 
plary patience.  But  he  was  disgusted,  and  he  desired 
a  reform.  Then  he  remembered  how  Zoroaster  him- 
self was  a  good  Mazdayashnian,  and  how  he  had  occu- 
pied himself  with  religious  studies  from  his  youth  up, 
and  how  he  had  enjoyed  the  advantage  of  being  the 
companion  of  Daniel,  the  Hebrew  governor,  whose 
grand  simplicity  of  faith  had  descended,  to  some 
degree,  upon  his  pupil.  The  Hebrews,  Darius  knew, 
were  a  sober  people  of  the  strongest  religious  convic- 
tions, and  he  had  heard  that,  although  eating  formed, 
in  some  way,  a  part  of  their  ceremonies,  there  was  no 
intoxication  connected  with  their  worship.  Zoroaster, 
he  thought,  would  be  able  to  give  him  advice  upon 
this  point,  which  would  be  good.  In  sending  for  the 
man  he  would  fulfil  the  double  purpose  of  seeming 
to  grant  the  queen's  request,  and  at  the  same  time,  of 
providing  himself  with  a  sage  counsellor  in  his  diffi- 
culties. With  his  usual  impetuosity,  he  at  once  ful- 
filled his   purpose,  assuring  himself  that  Zoroaster 


ZOROASTER.  203 

must  have  forgotten  Nehushta  by  this  time,  and  that 
he,  the  king,  was  strong  enough  to  prevent  trouble 
if  he  had  not. 

But  many  days  passed,  and  though  the  proclama- 
tion was  sent  to  all  parts  of  the  kingdom,  nothing  was 
heard  of  Zoroaster.  His  retreat  was  a  sure  one  and 
there  was  no  possibility  of  his  being  found. 

Atossa,  who  in  her  heart  longed  for  Zoroaster's 
return,  both  because  by  his  means  she  hoped  to  bring 
trouble  upon  Nehushta,  and  because  she  still  felt 
something  akin  to  love  for  him,  began  to  fear  that 
he  might  be  dead,  or  might  have  wandered  out  of  the 
kingdom  ;  but  Nehushta  herself  knew  not  whether  to 
hope  that  he  would  return,  or  to  rejoice  that  she  was 
to  escape  the  ordeal  of  meeting  him.  She  would  have 
given  anything  to  see  him  for  a  moment,  to  decide,  as 
it  were,  whether  she  wished  to  see  him,  or  not.  She 
was  deeply  disturbed  by  the  anxiety  she  felt  and  longed 
to  know  definitely  what  she  was  to  expect. 

She  began  to  hate  Stakhar  with  its  splendid  gar- 
dens and  gorgeous  colonnades,  with  its  soft  southern 
air  that  blew  across  the  valley  of  roses  all  day  long, 
wafting  up  a  wondrous  perfume  to  the  south  windows. 
She  hated  the  indolent  pomp  in  which  she  lived  and 
the  idle  luxury  of  her  days.  Something  in  her  hot- 
blooded  Hebrew  nature  craved  for  the  blazing  sun 
and  the  sand-wastes  of  Syria,  for  the  breath  of  the 
desert  and  for  the  burning  heat  of  the  wilderness. 
She  had  scarcely  ever  seen  these  things,  for  she  had 
sojourned  during  the  one-and-twenty  years  of  her 
life,  in  the  most  magnificent  palaces  of  the  kingdom, 
and  amid  the  fairest  gardens  the  hand  of  man  could 


204  ZOROASTER. 

plant.  But  the  love  of  the  sun  and  of  the  sand  was 
bred  in  the  blood.  She  began  to  hate  the  soft  cush- 
ions and  the  delicate  silks  and  the  endless  flowers 
scenting  the  heavy  air. 

Stakhar  ^  itself  was  a  mighty  fortress,  in  the  valley 
of  the  Araxes,  rising  dark  and  forbidding  from  the 
banks  of  the  little  river,  crowned  with  towers  and 
turrets  and  massive  battlements,  that  overlooked  the 
fertile  extent  of  gardens,  as  a  stern  schoolmaster 
frowning  over  a  crowd  of  fair  young  children.  But 
Darius  had  chosen  the  site  of  his  palace  at  some  dis- 
tance from  the  stronghold ;  where  the  river  bent  sud- 
denly round  a  spur  of  the  mountain,  and  watered  a 
wider  extent  of  land.  The  spur  of  the  hill  ran  down, 
by  an  easy  gradation,  into  the  valley ;  and  beyond  it 
the  hills  separated  into  the  wide  plain  of  Merodasht 
that  stretched  southward  many  farsangs  to  the  south- 
ern pass.  Upon  this  promontory  the  king  had  caused 
to  be  built  a  huge  platform  which  was  ascended  by 
the  broadest  flight  of  steps  in  the  whole  world,  so  easy 
of  gradation  that  a  man  might  easily  have  ridden  up 
and  then  down  again  without  danger  to  his  horse. 
Upon  the  platform  was  raised  the  palace,  a  mighty 
structure  resting  on  the  vast  columned  porticoes  and 
halls,  built  entirely  of  polished  black  marble,  that 
contrasted  strangely  with  the  green  slopes  of  the  hills 
above  and  with  the  bright  colours  of  the  rose-gardens. 
Endless  buildings  rose  behind  the  palace,  and  stretched 
far  down  towards  the  river  below  it.  Most  prominent 
of  those  above  was  the  great  temple  of  Auramazda, 
where  the   ceremonies  were  performed  which  gave 

1  Istakhar,  called  since  the  conquest  of  Alexander,  Persepolis. 


ZOROASTER.  205 

Darius  so  much  anxiety.  It  was  a  massive,  square 
building,  lower  than  the  palace,  consisting  of  stone 
walls  surrounded  by  a  deep  portico  of  polished  col- 
umns. It  was  not  visible  from  the  great  staircase, 
being  placed  immediately  behind  the  palace  and  hid- 
den by  it. 

The  walls  and  the  cornices  and  the  capitals  of  the 
pillars  were  richly  sculptured  with  sacrificial  proces- 
sions, and  long  trains  of  soldiers  and  captives,  with 
great  inscriptions  of  wedge-shaped  letters,  and  with 
animals  of  all  sorts.  The  work  was  executed  by 
Egyptian  captives;  and  so  carefully  was  the  hard 
black  marble  carved  and  polished,  that  a  man  could 
see  his  face  in  the  even  surfaces,  and  they  sent  back 
the  light  like  dark  mirrors. 

The  valley  above  Stakhar  was  grand  in  its  great 
outlines  of  crags  and  sharp,  dark  peaks,  and  the 
beetling  fortress  upon  its  rocky  base,  far  up  the 
gorge,  seemed  only  a  jutting  fragment  of  the  great 
mountain,  thrown  off  and  separated  from  the  main 
chain  by  an  earthquake,  or  some  vast  accident  of 
nature.  But  from  the  palace  itself  the  contrast  of 
the  views  was  great.  On  one  side,  the  rugged  hills, 
crag-crowned  and  bristling  black  against  the  north- 
western sky;  on  the  other,  the  great  bed  of  rose- 
gardens  and  orangeries  and  cultivated  enclosures 
filled  the  plain,  till  in  the  dim  distance  rose  the  level 
line  of  the  soft  blue  southern  hills,  blending  mistily 
in  the  lazy  light  of  a  far-off  warmth.  It  seemed  as 
though  on  one  side  of  the  palace  were  winter,  and  on 
the  other  summer ;  on  the  one  side  cold,  and  on  the 
other  heat ;  on  the  one  side  rough  strength,  and  on 
the  other  gentle  rest. 


206  ZOROASTER. 

But  Nehushta  gazed  northward  and  was  weary  of 
the  cold,  and  southward,  and  she  wearied  of  the  heat. 
There  was  nothing — nothing  in  it  all  that  was  worth 
one  moment  of  the  old  sweet  moonlit  evenings  among 
the  myrtles  at  Ecbatana.  When  she  thought,  there 
was  nothing  of  all  her  royal  state  and  luxury  that 
she  would  not  readily  give  to  have  had  Zoroaster  re- 
main faithful  to  her.  She  had  put  him  away  from 
her  heart,  driven  him  out  utterly,  as  she  believed; 
but  now  that  he  was  spoken  of  again,  she  knew  not 
whether  she  loved  him  a  little  in  spite  of  all  his  un- 
faithfulness, or  whether  it  was  only  the  memory  of 
the  love  she  had  felt  before  which  stirred  in  her 
breast,  and  made  her  unconsciously  speak  his  name 
when  she  was  alone. 

She  looked  back  over  the  three  years  that  were 
passed,  and  she  knew  that  she  had  done  her  duty  by 
the  king.  She  knew  also  that  she  had  done  it  will- 
ingly, and  that  there  had  been  many  moments  when 
she  said  to  herself  that  she  loved  Darius  dearly.  In- 
deed, it  was  not  hard  to  find  a  reason  for  loving  him, 
for  he  was  brave  and  honest  and  noble  in  all  his 
thoughts  and  ways ;  and  whatever  he  had  been  able 
to  do  to  show  his  love  for  Nehushta,  he  had  done. 
It  was  not  the  least  of  the  things  that  had  made  her 
life  pass  so  easily,  that  she  felt  daily  how  she  was 
loved  before  her  rival,  and  how,  in  her  inmost  heart, 
Atossa  chafed  at  seeing  Darius  forsake  her  society  for 
that  of  the  Hebrew  princess.  If  the  king  had  wearied 
of  her,  Nehushta  would  very  likely  have  escaped 
from  the  palace,  and  gone  out  to  face  an}^  misfortunes 
the  world  might  hold  for  her,  rather  than  remain  to 


ZOEOASTER.  207 

bear  the  scoffing  of  the  fair  smiling  woman  she  so 
hated.  Or,  she  would  have  stolen  in  by  night  to 
where  Atossa  slept,  and  the  wicked-looking  Indian 
knife  she  wore,  would  have  gone  down,  swift  and 
sure,  to  the  very  haft,  into  the  queen's  heart.  She 
would  not  have  borne  tamely  any  slight  upon  her 
beauty  or  her  claims.  But,  as  it  was,  she  reigned 
supreme.  The  king  was  just,  and  showed  no  differ- 
ence in  the  state  and  attendance  of  the  two  queens, 
but  it  was  to  Nehushta  he  turned,  when  he  drank 
deep  at  the  banquet  and  pledged  the  loving  cup.  It 
was  to  Nehushta  that  he  went  when  the  cares  of  state 
were  heavy  and  he  needed  counsel ;  and  it  was  upon 
her  lap  he  laid  his  weary  head,  when  he  had  ridden 
far  and  fast  for  many  days,  returning  from  some  hard- 
fouofht  field. 

But  the  queens  hated  each  other  with  a  fierce 
hatred,  and  when  Darius  was  absent,  their  divisions 
broke  out  sometimes  into  something  like  open  strife. 
Their  guards  buffeted  each  other  in  the  courts,  and 
their  slave-women  tore  out  each  other's  hair  upon  the 
stairways.  Then,  when  the  king  returned,  there 
reigned  an  armed  peace  for  a  time,  which  none  dared 
break.  But  rumours  of  the  disturbances  that  had 
taken  place  often  reached  the  royal  ears,  and  Darius 
was  angry  and  swore  great  oaths,  but  could  do  noth- 
ing ;  being  no  wiser  than  many  great  men  who  have 
had  to  choose  between  the  caprices  of  two  women 
who  hated  each  other. 

Now  the  rumour  went  abroad  that  Zoroaster  would 
return  to  the  court ;  and  for  a  space,  the  two  queens 
kept  aloof,  for  both  knew  that  if  he  came  back,  some 


208  ZOROASTER. 

mortal  conflict  would  of  necessity  arise  between  them ; 
and  each  watched  the  other,  and  was  cautious. 

The  days  passed  by,  but  no  one  answered  the  proc- 
lamation. No  one  had  seen  or  heard  of  Zoroaster, 
since  the  night  when  he  left  the  palace  at  Shushan. 
He  had  taken  nothing  with  him,  and  had  left  no  trace 
behind  to  guide  the  search.  Many  said  he  had  left 
the  kingdom;  some  said  he  was  dead  in  the  wilder- 
ness. But  Nehushta  sighed  and  took  little  rest,  for 
do  what  she  would,  she  had  hoped  to  see  him  once 
more. 


ZOROASTER.  209 


CHAPTER  XV. 

The  interior  of  the  temple  was  lighted  with  innum- 
erable lamps,  suspended  from  the  ceiling,  of  bronze 
and  of  the  simplest  workmanship,  like  everything 
which  pertained  to  the  worship  of  Auramazda.  In 
the  midst,  upon  a  small  altar  of  black  stone,  stood  a 
bronze  brazier,  shaped  like  a  goblet,  wherein  a  small 
fire  of  wood  burned  quietly,  sending  up  little  wreaths 
of  smoke,  which  spread  over  the  flat  ceiling  and  hung 
like  a  mist  about  the  lamps  ;  before  the  altar  lay  a 
supply  of  fuel  —  fine,  evenly-cut  sticks  of  white  pine- 
wood,  piled  in  regular  order  in  a  symmetrical  heap. 
At  one  extremity  of  the  oblong  hall  stood  a  huge 
mortar  of  black  marble,  having  a  heavy  wooden  pestle, 
and  standing  upon  a  circular  base,  in  which  was  cut 
a  channel  all  around,  with  an  opening  in  the  front  from 
which  the  Haoma  juice  poured  out  abundantly  when 
the  fresh  milkweed  was  moistened  and  pounded  to- 
gether in  the  mortar.  A  square  receptacle  of  marble 
received  the  fluid,  which  remained  until  it  had  fer- 
mented during  several  days,  and  had  acquired  the 
intoxicating  strength  for  which  it  was  prized,  and  to 
which  it  owed  its  sacred  character.  By  the  side  of 
this  vessel,  upon  a  low  marble  table,  lay  a  huge 
wooden  ladle ;  and  two  golden  cups,  short  and  wide, 
but  made  smaller  in  the  middle  like  a  sand-glass,  stood 
there  also. 


210  ZOROASTER. 

At  the  opposite  end  of  the  temple,  before  a  marble 
screen  which  shielded  the  doorway,  was  placed  a  great 
carved  chair  of  ebony  and  gold  and  silver,  raised  upon 
a  step  above  the  level  of  the  floor. 

It  was  already  dark  when  the  king  entered  the 
temple,  dressed  in  his  robes  of  state,  with  his  sword 
by  his  side,  his  long  sceptre  tipped  with  the  royal 
sphere  in  his  right  hand,  and  the  many-pointed  crown 
upon  his  head.  His  heavy  black  beard  had  grown 
longer  in  the  three  years  that  had  passed,  and  flowed 
down  over  his  vest  of  purple  and  white  halfway  to 
his  belt.  His  face  was  stern,  and  the  deep  lines  of 
his  strong  features  had  grown  more  massive  in  out- 
line. With  the  pride  of  every  successive  triumph 
had  come  also  something  more  of  repose  and  con- 
scious power.  His  step  was  slower,  and  his  broad 
brown  hand  grasped  the  golden  sceptre  with  less  of 
nervous  energy  and  more  unrelenting  force.  But  his 
brows  were  bent,  and  his  expression,  as  he  took  his 
seat  before  the  screen,  over  against  the  altar  of  the 
fire,  was  that  of  a  man  who  was  prepared  to  be  dis- 
contented and  cared  little  to  conceal  what  he  felt. 

After  him  came  the  chief  priest,  completely  robed 
in  white,  with  a  thick,  white  linen  sash  rolled  for  a 
girdle  about  his  waist,  the  fringed  ends  hanging  stiffly 
down  upon  one  side.  Upon  his  head  he  wore  a  great 
mitre,  also  of  white  linen,  and  a  broad  fringed  stole 
of  the  same  material  fell  in  two  wide  bands  from  each 
side  of  his  neck  to  his  feet.  His  beard  was  black  and 
glossy,  fine  as  silk,  and  reached  almost  to  his  waist. 
He  came  and  stood  with  his  back  to  the  king  and  his 
face  to  the  altar,  ten  paces  from  the  second  fire. 


ZOROASTER.  211 

Then,  from  behind  the  screen  and  from  each  side  of 
it,  the  other  priests  filed  out,  two  and  two,  all  clad  in 
white  like  the  chief  priest,  save  that  their  mitres  were 
smaller  and  they  wore  no  stole.  They  came  out  and 
ranged  themselves  around  the  walls  of  the  temple, 
threescore  and  nine  men,  of  holy  order,  trained  in 
the  ancient  chanting  of  the  Mazdayashnian  hymns; 
men  in  the  prime  and  strength  of  life,  black-bearded 
and  broad-shouldered,  whose  massive  brows  and 
straight  features  indicated  noble  powers  of  mind 
and  body. 

The  two  who  stood  nearest  to  the  chief  priest  came 
forward,  and  taking  from  his  hands  a  square  linen 
cloth  he  bore,  bound  it  across  his  mouth  and  tied  it 
behind  his  neck  in  a  firm  knot  by  means  of  strings. 
Then,  one  of  them  put  into  his  left  hand  a  fan  of 
eagles'  feathers,  and  the  other  gave  him  a  pair  of 
wrought-iron  pincers.  Then  they  left  him  to  advance 
alone  to  the  altar. 

He  went  forward  till  he  was  close  to  the  bronze 
brazier,  and  stooping  down,  he  took  from  the  heap  of 
fuel  a  clean  white  stick,  with  the  pincers,  which  he 
carefully  laid  upon  the  fire.  Then  with  his  left  hand 
he  gently  fanned  the  flames,  and  his  mouth  being 
protected  by  the  linen  cloth  in  such  a  manner  that 
his  breath  could  not  defile  the  sacred  fire,  he  began 
slowly  and  in  a  voice  muffled  by  the  bandage  he  wore, 
to  recite  the  beginning  of  the  sacrificial  hymn : 

"  Best  of  all  goods  is  purity. 
Glory ^  glory  to  him 
Who  is  best  and  purest  in  purity. 


212  ZOROASTER. 

For  he  who  ruleth  from  purity^  he  ahideth  according 

to  the  will  of  the  Lord. 
The  All-  Wise  giveth  gifts  for  the  works  which  man, 

doeth  in  the  world  for  the  Lord. 
He  who  protecteth  the  poor  giveth  the  kingdom  to 

Ahura.^'  ^ 

Then  all  the  priests  repeated  the  verses  together 
in  chorus,  their  voices  sounding  in  a  unison  which, 
though  not  precisely  song,  seemed  tending  to  a  musi- 
cal cadence  as  the  tones  rose  and  fell  again  upon  the 
last  two  syllables  of  each  verse.  And  then  again,  the 
chief  priest  and  the  other  priests  together  repeated 
the  hymn,  man}^  times,  in  louder  and  louder  chorus, 
with  more  and  more  force  of  intonation ;  till  the  chief 
priest  stepped  back  from  the  fire,  and  delivering  up 
the  pincers  and  the  fan,  allowed  the  two  assistants  to 
unbind  the  cloth  from  his  mouth. 
^  He  walked  slowly  up  the  temple  on  the  left  side, 
and  keeping  his  right  hand  toward  the  altar,  he 
walked  seven  times  around  it,  repeating  a  hymn  alone 
in  low  tones ;  till,  after  the  seventh  time,  he  went  up 
to  the  farther  end  of  the  hall,  and  stood  before  the 
black  marble  trough  in  which  the  fermented  Haoma 
stood  ready,  having  been  prepared  with  due  cere- 
mony three  days  before. 

Then,  in  a  loud  voice,  he  intoned  the  chant  in 
praise  of  Zaothra  and  Bareshma,  holding  high  in  his 
right  hand  the  bundle  of  sacred  stalks ;  which  he, 
from  time  to  time,  moistened  a  little  in  the  water 
from  a  vessel  which  stood  ready,  and  sprinkled  to 

1  Probably  the  oldest  hymns  in  the  Avesta  language. 


ZOKO  ASTER.  213 

the  four  corners  of  the  temple.  The  priests  again 
took  up  the  strain  in  chorus,  repeating  over  and  over 
the  burden  of  the  song. 

"  Zaothra^  I  praise  thee  and  desire  thee  with  praise  ! 
Bareshma,  I  praise  thee  and  desire  thee  with  praise  / 
Zaothra^  with  Bareshma  united,  I  praise  you  and 

desire  you  with  praise  ! 
Bareshma,  ivith  Zaothra  united,  I  praise  you  and 

desire  you  with  praise  !  " 

Suddenly  the  chief  priest  laid  down  the  Bareshma, 
and  seizing  one  of  the  golden  goblets,  filled  it,  with 
the  wooden  ladle,  from  the  dark  receptacle  of  the 
juice.  As  he  poured  it  high,  the  yellow  light  of  the 
lamp  caught  the  transparent  greenish  fluid,  and 
made  it  sparkle  strangely.  He  put  the  goblet  to  his 
lips  and  drank. 

The  king,  sitting  in  silence  upon  his  carved 
throne  at  the  other  extremity  of  the  temple,  bent  his 
brows  in  a  dark  frown  as  he  saw  the  hated  ceremony 
begin.  He  knew  how  it  ended,  and  grand  as  the 
words  were  which  they  would  recite  when  the  sub- 
tle fluid  had  fired  their  veins,  he  loathed  to  see  the 
intoxication  that  got  possession  of  them;  and  the 
frenzy  with  which  they  howled  the  sacred  strains 
seemed  to  him  to  destroy  the  solemnity  and  dignity 
of  a  hymn,  in  which  all  that  was  solemn  and  liigh 
would  otherwise  have  seemed  to  be  united. 

The  chief  priest  drank  and  then,  filling  both  gob- 
lets, gave  them  to  the  priests  at  his  right  and  left 
hand;  who,  after  drinking,  passed  each  other,  and 
made  way  for  those  next  them ;  and  so  the  whole 


214  ZOROASTER. 

number  filed  past  the  Haoma  vessel  and  drank  their 
share  till  they  all  had  changed  places,  and  those  who 
had  stood  upon  the  right,  now  stood  upon  the  left ; 
and  those  who  were  fii^st  upon  the  left  hand,  were 
now  upon  the  right.  And  when  all  had  drunk,  the 
chief  priest  intoned  the  great  h}ann  of  praise,  and  all 
the  chorus  united  with  him  in  high,  clear  tones : 

"  The  All-Wise  Creator,  Ahura  Mazda,  the  greatest, 
the  best,  the  most  fair  in  glory  and  majesty, 

"  The  mightiest  in  his  strength,  the  wisest  in  his 
wisdom,  the  holiest  in  his  holiness,  whose  power  is  of  all 
power  the  fairest, 

"  Who  is  very  wise,  who  maJceth  all  things  to  rejoice 
afar, 

"  Who  hath  made  ws  and  formed  us,  who  hath  saved 
us,  the  holiest  among  the  heavenly  ones, 

"  Eim  I  adore  and  praise,  unto  him  I  declare  the 
sacrifice,  him  I  invite, 

"  /  declare  the  sacrifice  to  the  Protector,  the  Peace- 
maker, who  maketh  the  fire  to  burn,  who  preserveth  the 
wealth  of  the  earth ;  the  whole  earth  and  the  wisdom 
thereof,  the  seas  and  the  waters,  the  land  and  all  grow- 
hig  things,  I  invite  to  the  sacrifice. 

"  Cattle  and  living  things,  and  the  fire  of  Ahura,  the 
sure  helper,  the  lord  of  the  archangels, 

"  The  nights  and  the  days,  I  call  upon,  the  purity  of 
all  created  light, 

"  The  Lord  of  light,  the  sun  in  his  glory,  glorious  in 
name  and  worthy  of  honour, 

"  Who  giveth  food  unto  men,  and  multiplieth  the 
cattle  upon  the  earth,  who  causeth  mankind  to  increase, 
Z  call  upon  and  invite  to  the  sacrifice, 


ZOROASTER.  215 

*'  Water^  and  the  centre  of  all  waters,  given  and  made 
of  God,  that  refresheth  all  things  and  maketh  all  things 
to  grow,  I  call  upon  and  invite. 

"  The  souls  of  the  righteous  and  pure,  the  tuhole 
multitude  of  living  men  and  women  upon  earth,  I  call 
upon  and  invite. 

"  I  call  upon  the  triumph  and  the  mighty  strength  of 
God, 

"  I  call  upon  the  archangels  ivho  keep  the  world,  upon 
the  months,  upon  the  pure,  new  moon,  the  lordship  of 
'purity  in  heaven, 

"  I  call  upon  the  feasts  of  the  years  and  the  seasons, 
upon  the  years  and  the  months  and  days, 

^''  I  call  upon  the  star  Ahura^  and  upon  the  one  great 
and  eternal  in  purity,  and  upon  all  the  stars,  the  works 
of  God, 

"  Upon  the  star  Tistrya  I  call,  the  far-shining,  the 
magnificent  —  upon  the  fair  moon  that  shineth  upon 
the  young  cattle,  upon  the  glorious  sun  swift  in  the  race 
of  his  flight,  the  eye  of  the  Lord. 

"  /  call  upon  the  spirits  and  souls  of  the  righteous,  on 
the  fire-hegotten  of  the  Lord,  and  upon  all  fires. 

"  Mountains  and  all  hills,  lightened  and  full  of  light 

"  Majesty  of  kingly  honour,  the  Majesty  of  the  king 
which  dieth  not,  is  not  diminished, 

"  All  wisdom  and  blessings  and  true  promises,  all 
me7i  who  are  full  of  strength  and  power  and  might, 

"  All  places  and  lands  and  countries  beneath  the 
heavens,  and  above  the  heavens,  light  ivithout  beginning^, 
existing,  and  ivithout  end, 

''  A II  creatures  pure  and  good,  male  and  female  upon 
the  earth. 

lAhura,  Jupiter.     Tistrya,  Sirius. 


216  ZOROASTER. 

''^  All  you  I  invite  and  call  upon  to  the  sacrifice:. 

"  ITavani,  pure^  lord  of  purity  ! 

'•'•  Shavanghi^  pure,  lord  of  purity  / 

''  BapitJiwina,  pure,  lord  of  purity  / 

"  Uzayeirina,  pure,  lord  of  purity  ! 

'^  Aiwishruthreina,  Aihigaya,  pure,  lord  of  purity  ! 

"  Uslialiina,  pure,  lord  of  purity  ! 

"  To  Havani,  Shavanglii  and  Vishya,  the  p)ure,  the 
lords  of  purity  7nost  glorious,  he  hojiour  and  prayer  and 
fulfilment  and  praise. 

"  To  the  days,  and  the  nights,  and  the  hours,  the 
months  and  the  years  and  the  feasts  of  years,  he  honour 
and  prayer  and  fulfilment  and  praise  hefore  Aura- 
mazda,  the  All-Wise,  for  ever  and  ever  and  ever,""  ^ 

As  the  white-robed  priests  shouted  the  verses  of 
the  long  hymn,  their  eyes  flashed  and  their  bodies 
moved  rhythmically  from  side  to  side  with  an  ever- 
increasing  motion.  From  time  to  time,  the  golden 
goblets  were  filled  with  the  sweet  Haoma  juice,  and 
passed  rapidly  from  hand  to  hand  along  the  line,  and 
as  each  priest  drank  more  freely  of  the  subtle  fer- 
mented liquor,  his  eyes  gained  a  new  and  more  unnat- 
ural light,  and  his  gestures  grew  more  wild,  while 
the  whole  body  of  voices  rose  together  from  an  even 
and  dignified  chant  to  an  indistinguishable  discord  of 
deafening  yells. 

Ever  more  and  more  they  drank,  repeating  the 
verses  of  the  hymn  without  order  or  sequence.  One 
man   repeated   a  verse    over  and  over  again  in  ear- 

1  Partly  a  translation,  partly  a  close  imitation  in  a  condensed 
form  of  Yashna  I. 


ZOROASTER.  217 

piercing  shrieks,  swaying  his  body  to  and  fro  till  he 
dropped  forward  upon  the  ground,  foaming  at  the 
mouth,  his  features  distorted  with  a  wild  convulsion, 
and  his  limbs  as  rigid  as  stone.  Here,  a  band  of  five 
locked  their  arms  together,  and,  back  to  back,  whirled 
madly  round,  screaming  out  the  names  of  the  arch- 
angels, in  an  indiscriminate  rage  of  sound  and  broken 
syllables.  One,  less  enduring  than  the  rest,  relaxed 
his  hold  upon  his  fellow's  arm  and  fell  headlong  on 
the  pavement,  while  the  remaining  four  were  carried 
on  by  the  force  of  their  whirling,  and  fell  together 
against  others  who  steadied  themselves  against  the 
wall,  swaying  their  heads  and  arms  from  side  to  side. 
Overthrown  by  the  fall  of  their  companions,  these  in 
their  turn  fell  forward  upon  the  others,  and  in  a  few 
moments,  the  whole  company  of  priests  lay  grovelling 
one  upon  the  other,  foaming  at  the  mouth,  but  still 
howling  out  detached  verses  of  their  hymn  —  a  mass 
of  raging,  convulsed  humanity,  tearing  each  other  in 
the  frenzy  of  drunkenness,  rolling  over  and  over  each 
other  in  the  twisted  contortions  of  frenzied  maniacs. 
The  air  grew  thick  with  the  smoke  of  the  fire  and  of 
the  lamps,  and  the  unceasing,  indescribable  din  of 
the  hoarsely  howling  voices  seemed  to  make  the  very 
roof  rock  upon  the  pillars  that  held  it  up,  as  though 
the  stones  themselves  must  go  mad  and  shriek  in  the 
universal  fury  of  sound.  The  golden  goblets  rolled 
upon  the  marble  pavement,  and  the  sweet  green  juice 
ran  in  slimy  streams  upon  the  floor.  The  high  priest 
himself,  utterly  intoxicated  and  screaming  with  a 
voice  like  a  wild  beast  in  agony,  fell  backwards  across 
the   marble  vase  at  the  foot  of  the  mortar  and  his 


218  ZOROASTER. 

hand  and  arm  plashed  into  the  dregs  of  the  fermented 
Haoma. 

Never  had  the  drunken  frenzy  reached  such  a 
point  before.  The  king  had  sat  motionless  and 
frowning  upon  his  seat  until  he  saw  the  high  priest 
fall  headlong  into  the  receptacle  of  the  sacred  Haoma. 
Then,  with  a  groan,  he  laid  his  two  hands  upon  the 
drms  of  his  carved  chair,  and  rose  to  his  feet  in  utter 
disgust  and  horror.  But,  as  he  turned  to  go,  he  stood 
still  and  shook  from  head  to  foot,  for  he  saw  beside 
him  a  figure  that  might,  at  such  a  moment,  have 
startled  the  boldest. 

A  tall  man  of  unearthly  looks  stood  there,  whose 
features  he  seemed  to  know,  but  could  not  recognise. 
His  face  was  thin  to  emaciation,  and  his  long,  white 
hair  fell  in  tangled  masses,  with  his  huge  beard,  upon 
his  half-naked  shoulders  and  bare  chest.  The  torn, 
dark  mantle  he  wore  was  falling  to  the  ground  as  he 
faced  the  drunken  herd  of  howling  priests  and  lifted 
up  his  thin  blanched  arms  and  bony  fingers,  as  though 
in  protest  at  the  hideous  sight.  His  deep-set  eyes 
were  blue  and  fiery,  flashing  with  a  strange  light. 
He  seemed  not  to  see  Darius,  but  he  gazed  in  deepest 
horror  upon  the  writhing  mass  of  bestial  humanity 
below. 

Suddenly  his  arms  shook,  and  standing  there, 
against  the  dark  marble  screen,  like  the  very  figure 
and  incarnation  of  fate,  he  spoke  in  a  voice  that, 
without  effort,  seemed  to  dominate  the  hideous  din  of 
yelling  voices  —  a  voice  that  was  calm  and  clear  as  a 
crystal  bell,  but  having  that  in  it  which  carried  in- 
stantly the  words  he  spoke  to  the  ears  of  the  very 


ZOROASTER.  219 

most  besotted  wretch  that  lay  among  the  heaps  upon 
the  floor  —  a  voice  that  struck  like  a  sharp  steel  blade 
upon  iron. 

"I  am  the  prophet  of  the  Lord.  Hold  ye  your 
peace." 

As  a  wild  beast's  howling  suddenly  diminishes  and 
grows  less  and  dies  away  to  silence,  when  the  hun- 
ter's arrow  has  sped  close  to  the  heart  with  a  mortal 
wound,  so  in  one  moment,  the  incoherent  din  sank 
down,  and  the  dead  stillness  that  followed  was  dread- 
ful by  contrast.  Darius  stood  with  his  hand  upon 
the  arm  of  his  chair,  not  understanding  the  words  of 
the  fearful  stranger;  still  less  the  mastering  power 
those  words  had  upon  the  drunken  priests.  But  his 
courage  did  not  desert  him,  and  he  feared  not  to  speak. 

"  How  sayest  thou  that  thou  art  a  prophet?  Who 
art  thou  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Thou  knowest  me  and  hast  sent  for  me,"  an- 
swered the  white-haired  man,  in  his  calm  tones ;  but 
his  fiery  eyes  rested  on  the  king's,  and  Darius  almost 
quailed  under  the  glance.  "  I  am  Zoroaster ;  I  am 
come  to  proclaim  the  truth  to  thee  and  to  these  mis- 
erable men,  thy  priests." 

The  fear  they  felt  had  restored  the  frenzied  men  to 
their  senses.  One  by  one,  they  rose  and  crept  back 
towards  the  high  priest  himself,  who  had  struggled  to 
his  feet,  and  stood  upon  the  basement  of  the  mortar 
above  all  the  rest. 

Then  Darius  looked,  and  he  knew  that  it  was  Zoro- 
aster, but  he  knew  not  the  strange  look  upon  his  face, 
and  the  light  in  his  eyes  was  not  as  the  light  of  other 
days.     He  turned  to  the  priests. 


220  ZOKOASTER. 

"  Ye  are  unworthy  priests,"  he  cried  angrily,  "  for 
ye  are  drunk  with  your  own  sacrifice,  and  ye  defile 
God's  temple  with  unseemly  cries.  Behold  this  man 
—  can  ye  tell  me  whether  he  be  indeed  a  prophet?" 
Darius,  whose  anger  was  fast  taking  the  place  of  the 
awe  he  had  felt  when  he  first  saw  Zoroaster  beside 
him,  strode  a  step  forward,  with  his  hand  upon  his 
sword-hilt,  as  though  he  would  take  summary  ven- 
geance upon  the  desecrators  of  the  temple. 

"  He  is  surely  a  liar  !  "  cried  the  high  priest  from 
his  position  beyond  the  altar,  as  though  hurling  de- 
fiance at  Zoroaster  through  the  flames. 

"He  is  surely  a  liar!"  repeated  all  the  priests 
together,  following  their  head. 

"  He  is  a  Magian,  a  worshipper  of  idols,  a  liar  and 
the  father  of  lies  I  Down  with  him !  Slay  him  be- 
fore the  altar ;  destroy  the  unbeliever  that  entereth 
the  temple  of  Ahura  Mazda !  " 

"  Down  with  the  Magian !  Down  with  the  idol- 
ater ! "  cried  the  priests,  and  moved  forward  in  a 
body  toward  the  thin  white-haired  man  who  stood 
facing  them,  serene  and  high. 

Darius  drew  his  short  sword  and  rushed  before 
Zoroaster  to  strike  down  the  foremost  of  the  priests. 
But  Zoroaster  seized  the  keen  blade  in  the  air  as 
though  it  had  been  a  reed,  and  wrenched  it  from  the 
king's  strong  grip,  and  broke  it  in  pieces  like  glass, 
and  cast  the  fragments  at  his  feet.  Darius  staggered 
back  in  amazement,  and  the  herd  of  angry  men,  in 
whose  eyes  still  blazed  the  drunkenness  of  the  Haoma, 
huddled  together  for  a  moment  like  frightened 
sheep. 


ZOROASTEK.  221 

"  I  have  no  need  of  swords,"  said  Zoroaster,  in  his 
cold,  clear  voice. 

Then  the  high  priest  cried  aloud,  and  ran  forward 
and  seized  a  brand  from  the  sacred  fire. 

"  It  is  Angramainyus,  the  Power  of  Evil,"  he  yelled 
fiercely.  "  He  is  come  to  fight  with  Auramazda  in 
his  temple !     But  the  fire  of  the  Lord  shall  destroy 

him : " 

As  the  priest  rushed  upon  him,  with  the  blazing 
brand  raised  high  to  strike,  Zoroaster  faced  him  and 
fixed  his  eyes  upon  the  angry  man.  The  priest  sud- 
denly stood  still,  his  hand  in  mid-air,  and  the  stout 
piece  of  burning  wood  fell  to  the  floor,  and  lay  smoul- 
dering and  smoking  upon  the  pavement. 

"  Tempt  not  the  All- Wise  Lord,  lest  he  destroy 
thee,"  said  Zoroaster  solemnly.  "  Harken,  ye  priests, 
and  obey  the  word  from  heaven.  Take  the  brazier 
from  your  altar,  and  scatter  the  embers  upon  the 
floor,  for  the  fire  is  defiled." 

Silent  and  trembling,  the  priests  obeyed,  for  they 
were  afraid;  but  the  high  priest  stood  looking  in 
amazement  upon  Zoroaster. 

When  the  brazier  was  gone,  and  the  coals  were 
scattered  out  upon  the  pavement,  and  the  priests  had 
trodden  out  the  fire  with  their  leathern  shoes,  Zoroaster 
went  to  the  black  marble  altar,  and  faced  the  east, 
looking  towards  the  stone  mortar  at  the  end.  He  laid 
his  long,  thin  hands  upon  the  flat  surface  and  drew 
them  slowly  together ;  and,  in  the  sight  of  the  priests, 
a  light  sprang  up  softly  between  his  fingers ;  gradually 
at  first,  then  higher  and  higher,  till  it  stood  like  a 
blazing   spear-head   in    the   midst,  emitting  a  calm, 


222  ZOROASTER. 

white  effulgence  that  darkened  the  lamps  overhead, 
and  shed  an  unearthly  whiteness  on  Zoroaster's  white 
face. 

He  stepped  back  from  the  altar,  and  a  low  murmur 
of  astonishment  rose  from  all  the  crowd  of  white- 
robed  men.  Darius  stood  in  silent  wonder,  gazing 
alternately  upon  the  figure  of  Zoroaster,  and  upon 
the  fragments  of  his  good  sword  that  lay  scattered 
upon  the  pavement. 

Zoroaster  looked  round  upon  the  faces  of  the  priests 
with  blazing  eyes : 

"  If  ye  be  true  priests  of  Ahura  Mazda,  raise  with 
me  the  hymn  of  praise,"  he  said.  "  Let  it  be  heard 
in  the  heavens,  and  let  it  echo  beyond  the  spheres ! " 

Then  his  voice  rose  calm  and  clear  above  all  the 
others,  and  lifting  up  his  eyes  and  hands,  he  intoned 
the  solemn  chant ; 

"^e,  who  hy  truth  ruleth  in  purity^  ahideth  accord- 
ing to  the  will  of  the  Lord. 

"  The  Lord  All-  Wise  is  the  giver  of  gifts  to  men  for 
the  ivorks  which  men  in  the  world  shall  do  in  the  truth 
of  the  Lord, 

"  He  who  protecteth  the  poor  giveth  the  kingdom  to 
aod. 

"  Best  of  all  earthly  goods  is  truth. 

"  Grlory^  glory  on  high  for  ever  to  him  who  is  best  in 
heaven,  and  truest  in  truth  on  earth  !  " 

Zoroaster's  grand  voice  rang  out,  and  all  the  priests 
sang  melodiously  together;  and  upon  the  place  which 
had  been  the  scene  of  such  frenzy  and  fury  and 
drunkenness,  there   descended  a  peace  as  holy  and 


ZOROASTER.  22£ 

calm  as  the  quiet  flame  that  burned  without  fuel  upon 
the  black  stone  in  the  midst.  One  by  one,  the  priests 
came  and  fell  at  Zoroaster's  feet;  the  chief  priest 
first  of  all. 

^'Thou  art  the  prophet  and  priest  of  the  Lord," 
each  said,  one  after  another.  "  I  acknowledge  thee 
to  be  the  chief  priest,  and  I  swear  to  be  a  true  priest 
with  thee." 

And  last  of  all,  the  king,  who  had  stood  silently 
by,  came  and  would  have  kneeled  before  Zoroaster. 
But  Zoroaster  took  his  hands,  and  they  embraced. 

"  Forgive  me  the  wrong  I  did  thee,  Zoroaster,"  said 
Darius.  "  For  thou  art  a  holy  man,  and  I  will  hon- 
our thee  as  thou  wast  not  honoured  before." 

"  Thou  hast  done  me  no  wrong,"  answered  Zoro- 
aster. "  Thou  hast  sent  for  me,  and  I  am  come  to  be 
thy  faithful  friend,  as  I  swore  to  thee,  long  ago,  in 
the  tent  at  Shushan." 

Then  they  took  Zoroaster's  torn  clothes,  and  they 
clad  him  in  white  robes  and  set  a  spotless  mitre  upon 
his  head ;  and  the  king,  for  the  second  time,  took  his 
golden  chain  from  his  own  neck,  and  put  it  about 
Zoroaster's  shoulders.  And  they  led  him  away  into 
the  palace. 


224  ZOROASTER. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

When  it  was  known  that  Zoroaster  had  returned, 
there  was  some  stir  in  the  palace.  The  news  that  he 
was  made  high  priest  soon  reached  Nehushta's  ears, 
and  she  wondered  what  change  had  come  over  him 
in  three  years  that  couhl  have  made  a  priest  of  such 
a  man.  She  remembered  him  young  and  marvel- 
lously fair,  a  warrior  at  all  points,  though  at  the 
same  time  an  accomplished  courtier-  She  could  not 
imagine  him  invested  with  the  robes  of  priesthood, 
leading  a  chorus  of  singers  in  the  chanting  of  the 
hymns. 

But  it  was  not  only  as  a  chief  priest  that  Darius 
had  reinstalled  Zoroaster  in  the  palace.  The  king 
needed  a  counsellor  and  adviser,  and  the  learned 
priest  seemed  a  person  fitted  for  the  post. 

On  the  following  day,  Nehushta,  as  was  her  wont, 
went  out,  in  the  cool  of  the  evening,  to  walk  in  the 
gardens,  attended  by  her  maidens,  her  fan-girls  and 
the  slaves  who  bore  her  carpet  and  cushions  in  case 
she  wished  to  sit  down.  She  walked  languidly,  as 
though  she  hardly  cared  to  lift  her  delicate  slippered 
feet  from  the  smooth  walk,  and  often  she  paused  and 
plucked  a  flower,  and  all  her  train  of  serving-women 
stopped  behind  her,  not  daring  even  to  whisper  among 
themselves,  for  the  young  queen  was  in  no  gentle 
humour  of  mind.     Her  face  was  pale  and  her  eyes 


ZOROASTER.  225 

were  heavy,  for  she  knew  the  man  she  had  so  loved 
in  other  days  was  near,  and  though  he  had  so  bitterly 
deceived  her,  the  sound  of  his  sweet  promises  was 
yet  in  her  ears ;  and  sometimes,  in  her  dreams,  she 
felt  the  gentle  breath  of  his  mouth  upon  her  sleeping 
lips,  and  woke  with  a  start  of  joy  that  was  but  the 
forerunner  of  a  new  sadness. 

Slowly  she  paced  the  walks  of  the  rose-gardens, 
thinking  of  another  place  in  the  far  north,  where 
there  had  been  roses,  and  myrtles  too,  upon  a  terrace 
where  the  moonlight  was  very  fair. 

As  she  turned  a  sharp  corner  where  the  overhang- 
ing shrubbery  darkened  the  declining  light  to  a  dusky 
shade,  she  found  herself  face  to  face  with  the  man  of 
whom  she  was  thinking.  His  tall  thin  figure,  clad 
in  spotless  white  robes,  seemed  like  a  shadow  in  the 
gloom,  and  his  snowy  beard  and  hair  made  a  strange 
halo  about  his  young  face,  that  was  so  thin  and  worn. 
He  walked  slowly,  his  hands  folded  together,  and 
his  eyes  upon  the  ground  ;  while  a  few  paces  behind 
him  two  young  priests  followed  with  measured  steps, 
conversing  in  low  tones,  as  though  fearing  to  disturb 
the  meditations  of  their  master. 

Nehushta  started  a  little  and  would  have  passed 
on,  although  she  recognised  the  face  of  him  she  had 
loved.  But  Zoroaster  lifted  his  eyes,  and  looked  on 
her  with  so  strange  an  expression  that  she  stopped 
short  in  the  way.  The  deep,  calm  light  in  his  eyes 
awed  her,  and  there  was  something  in  his  majestic 
presence  that  seemed  of  another  world. 

*'  Hail,  Nehushta  !  "  said  the  high  priest  quietly. 

But,  at  the  sound  of  his  voice,  the  spell  was  broken. 
Q 


226  ZOKOASTER. 

The  Hebrew  woman  lifted  her  head  proudly,  and  hei 
black  eyes  flashed  again. 

"  Greet  me  not,"  she  answered,  "  for  the  greeting 
of  a  liar  is  like  the  sting  of  the  serpent  that  striketh 
unawares  in  the  dark." 

Zoroaster's  face  never  changed,  only  his  luminous 
eyes  gazed  on  hers  intently,  and  she  paused  again,  as 
though  riveted  to  the  spot. 

"  I  lie  not,  nor  have  lied  to  thee  ever,"  he  answered 
calmly.  "  Go  thou  hence,  ask  her  whom  thou  hatest, 
whether  I  have  deceived  thee.     Farewell." 

He  turned  his  gaze  from  her  and  passed  slowly  on, 
looking  down  to  the  ground,  his  hands  folded  before 
him.  He  left  her  standing  in  the  way,  greatly 
troubled  and  not  understanding  his  saying. 

Had  she  not  seen  with  her  eyes  how  he  held  Atossa 
in  his  arms  on  that  evil  morning  in  Shushan  ?  Had 
she  not  seen  how,  when  he  was  sent  away,  he  had 
written  a  letter  to  Atossa  and  no  word  to  herself? 
Could  these  things  which  she  had  seen  and  known, 
be  untrue?  The  thought  was  horrible  —  that  her 
whole  life  had  perhaps  been  wrecked  and  ruined  by 
a  mistake.  And  yet  there  was  not  any  mistake,  she 
repeated  to  herself.  She  had  seen ;  one  must  believe 
what  one  sees.  She  had  heard  Atossa's  passionate 
words  of  love,  and  had  seen  Zoroaster's  arms  go 
round  her  drooping  body ;  one  must  believe  what  one 
sees  and  hears  and  knows  ! 

But  there  was  a  ringing  truth  in  his  voice  just 
now  when  he  said :  "  I  lie  not,  nor  have  lied  to  thee 
ever."  A  lie  —  no,  not  spoken,  but  done ;  and  the 
lie  of  an  action  is  greater  than   the  lie  of   a  word. 


ZOROASTER.  227 

And  yet,  his  voice  sounded  true  just  now  in  the  dusk, 
and  there  was  something  in  it,  something  like  the 
ring  of  a  far  regret.  "  Ask  her  whom  thou  liatest," 
he  had  said.  That  was  Atossa.  There  was  no  other 
woman  whom  she  hated  —  no  man  save  him. 

She  had  many  times  asked  herself  whether  or  no 
she  loved  the  king.  She  felt  something  for  him  that 
she  had  not  felt  for  Zoroaster.  The  passionate  en- 
thusiasm of  the  strong,  dark  warrior  sometimes  carried 
her  away  and  raised  her  with  it ;  she  loved  his  manli- 
ness, his  honesty,  his  unchanging  constancy  of  pur- 
pose. And  yet  Zoroaster  had  had  all  these,  and  more 
also,  though  they  had  shown  themselves  in  a  different 
way.  She  looked  back  and  remembered  how  calm  he 
had  always  been,  how  utterly  superior  in  his  wisdom. 
He  seemed  scarcely  mortal,  until  he  had  one  day 
fallen  —  and  fallen  so  desperately  low  in  her  view, 
that  she  loathed  the  memory  of  that  feigned  calm- 
ness and  wisdom  and  purity.  For  it  must  have  been 
feigned.  How  else  could  he  have  put  his  arms  about 
Atossa,  and  taken  her  head  upon  his  breast,  wliile 
she  sobbed  out  words  of  love  ? 

But  if  he  loved  Atossa,  she  loved  him  as  well. 
She  said  so,  cried  it  aloud  upon  the  terrace  where 
any  one  might  have  heard  it.  Why  then  had  he  left 
the  court,  and  hidden  himself  so  long  in  the  wilder- 
ness? Why,  before  going  out  on  his  wanderings, 
had  he  disguised  himself,  and  gone  and  stood  where 
the  procession  passed,  and  hissed  out  a  bitter  in- 
sult as  Nehushta  went  by?  For  her  sake  he  had 
abandoned  his  brilliant  life  these  three  years,  to 
dwell  in  the  desert,  to  grow  so  thin  and  miserable  of 


228  ZOROASTER. 

aspect  that  he  looked  like  an  old  man.  And  his  hair 
and  beard  were  white  —  she  had  heard  that  a  man 
might  turn  white  from  sorrow  in  a  day.  Was  it 
grief  that  had  so  changed  him?  Grief  to  see  her 
wedded  to  the  king  before  his  eyes  ?  His  voice  rang 
so  true :  "  Ask  her  whom  thou  hatest,"  he  had  said= 
In  truth  she  would  ask.  It  was  all  too  inexpli- 
cable, and  the  sudden  thought  that  she  had  perhaps 
wronged  him  three  long  years  ago  —  even  the  possi- 
bility of  the  thought  that  seemed  so  little  possible  to 
her  yesterday  —  wrought  strangely  in  her  breast,  and 
terrified  her.  She  would  ask  Atossa  to  her  face 
whether  Zoroaster  had  loved  her.  She  would  tell 
how  she  had  seen  them  together  upon  the  balcony, 
and  heard  Atossa's  quick,  hot  words.  She  would 
threaten  to  tell  the  king;  and  if  the  elder  queen 
refused  to  answer  truth,  she  would  indeed  tell  him 
and  put  her  rival  to  a  bitter  shame. 

She  walked  more  quickly  upon  the  smooth  path, 
and  her  hands  wrung  each  other,  and  once  she  felt 
the  haft  of  that  wicked  Indian  knife  she  ever  wore. 
When  she  turned  back  and  went  up  the  broad  steps 
of  the  palace,  the  moon  was  rising  above  the  far 
misty  hills  to  eastward,  and  there  were  lights  beneath 
the  columned  portico.  She  paused  and  looked  back 
across  the  peaceful  valley,  and  far  down  below,  a 
solitary  nightingale  called  out  a  few  melancholy  notes, 
and  then  burst  forth  into  glorious  song. 

Nehushta  turned  again  to  go  in,  and  there  were 
tears  in  her  dark  eyes,  that  had  not  stood  there  for 
many  a  long  day.  But  she  clasped  her  hands  to- 
gether, and   went   forward   between    the    crouching 


ZOROASTER  229 

slaves,  straight  to  Atossa's  apartment.  It  was  not 
usual  for  any  one  to  gain  access  to  the  elder  queen's 
inner  chambers  without  first  obtaining  permission 
from  Atossa  herself,  and  Nehushta  had  never  been 
there.  They  met  rarely  in  public,  and  spoke  little, 
though  each  maintained  the  appearances  of  courtesy ; 
but  Atossa's  smile  was  the  sweeter  of  the  two.  In 
private  they  never  saw  each  other ;  and  the  queen's 
slaves  would  perhaps  have  tried  to  prevent  Nehushta 
from  entering,  but  her  black  eyes  flashed  upon  them 
in  such  dire  wrath  as  she  saw  them  before  her,  that 
they  crouched  away  and  let  her  pass  on  unmolested. 

Atossa  sat,  as  ever  at  that  hour,  in  her  toilet- 
chamber,  surrounded  by  her  tirewomen.  The  room 
was  larger  than  the  one  at  Shushan,  for  she  had 
caused  it  to  be  built  after  her  own  plans ;  but  her 
table  was  the  same  as  ever,  and  upon  it  stood  the 
broad  silver  mirror,  which  she  never  allowed  to  be 
left  behind  when  she  travelled. 

Her  magnificent  beauty  had  neither  changed  nor 
faded  in  three  years.  Such  strength  as  hers  was  not 
to  be  broken,  nor  worn  out,  by  the  mere  petty  annoy- 
ances of  palace  life.  She  could  sustain  the  constant 
little  warfare  she  waged  against  the  king,  without 
even  so  much  as  looking  careworn  and  pale  for  a 
moment,  though  the  king  himself  often  looked  dark 
and  weary,  and  his  eyes  were  heavy  with  sleepless- 
ness for  the  trouble  she  gave  him.  Yet  he  could 
never  determine  to  rid  himself  of  her,  even  when  he 
began  to  understand  the  profound  badness  of  her 
character.  She  exercised  a  certain  fascination  over 
him,  as  a  man  grows  fond  of  some  beautiful,  wicked 


230  ZOROASTER. 

beast  he  has  half-tamed,  though  it  turn  and  show  its 
teeth  at  him  sometimes,  and  be  altogether  more  of  a 
care  than  a  pastime.  She  was  so  fair  and  evil  that 
he  could  not  hurt  her ;  it  would  have  seemed  a  crime 
to  destroy  anything  so  wondrously  made.  Moreover, 
she  could  amuse  him  and  make  many  an  hour  pass 
pleasantly  when  she  was  so  disposed. 

She  was  fully  attired  for  the  banquet  that  was  to 
take  place  late  in  the  evening,  but  her  women  were 
still  about  her,  and  she  looked  at  herself  critically  in 
the  mirror,  and  would  have  changed  the  pinning  of 
her  tiara,  so  that  her  fair  hair  should  fall  forward  upon 
one  side,  instead  of  backwards  over  her  shoulder. 
She  tried  the  effect  of  the  change  upon  her  face,  and 
peered  into  the  mirror  beneath  the  bright  light  of  the 
tall  lamps;  when,  on  a  sudden,  as  she  looked,  she 
met  the  reflection  of  two  angry  dark  eyes,  and  she 
knew  that  Nehushta  was  behind  her. 

She  rose  to  her  feet,  turning  quickly,  and  the  sweep 
of  her  long  robe  overthrew  the  light  carved  chair  upon 
the  marble  floor.  She  faced  Nehushta  with  a  cold 
smile  that  betrayed  surprise  at  being  thus  interrupted 
in  her  toilet  rather  than  any  dread  of  the  interview. 
Her  delicate  eyebrows  arched  themselves  in  some- 
thing of  scorn,  but  her  voice  came  low  and  sweet  as 
ever. 

"  It  is  rarely  indeed  that  the  queen  Nehushta  deigns 
to  visit  her  servant,"  she  said.  "  Had  she  sent  warn- 
ing of  her  coming,  she  would  have  been  more  fittingly 
received." 

Nehushta  stood  still  before  her.  She  hated  that 
cool,  still  voice  that  choked  her  like  a  tightening  bow- 
string  about  her  neck. 


ZOROASTER.  231 

"  We  have  small  need  of  court  formalities,"  answered 
the  Hebrew  woman,  shortly.  "  1  desire  to  speak  with 
yon  alone  upon  a  matter  of  importance." 

"I  am  alone,"  returned  Atossa,  seating  herself  upon 
the  carved  chair,  which  one  of  the  slaves  had  instantly 
set  up  again,  and  motioning  to  Nehushta  to  be  seated. 
But  Nehushta  glanced  at  the  serving-women  and 
remained  standing. 

"  You  are  not  alone,"  she  said  briefly. 

"  They  are  not  women  —  they  are  slaves,"  answered 
Atossa,  with  a  smile. 

"Will  you  not  send  them  away?" 

"Why  should  I?" 

"  You  need  not  —  I  will,"  returned  Nehushta. 
"  Begone,  and  quickly !  "  she  added,  turning  to  the 
little  group  of  women  and  slave-girls  who  stood  to- 
gether, looking  on  in  wonder.  At  Nehushta's  impe- 
rious command,  they  hurried  through  the  door,  and 
the  curtains  fell  behind  them.  They  knew  Nehushta's 
power  in  the  palace  too  well  to  hesitate  to  obey  her, 
even  in  the  presence  of  their  own  mistress. 

"  Strange  ways  you  have  !  "  exclaimed  Atossa,  in  a 
low  voice.  She  was  fiercely  angry,  but  there  was  no 
change  in  her  face.  She  dangled  a  little  chain  upon 
her  finger,  and  tapped  the  ground  with  her  foot  as  she 
sat.     That  was  all. 

"  I  am  not  come  here  to  wrangle  with  you  about 
your  slaves.  They  will  obey  me  without  wrangling. 
I  met  Zoroaster  in  the  gardens  an  hour  since." 

"  By  a  previous  arrangement,  of  course  ?  "  suggested 
Atossa,  mth  a  sneer.  But  her  clear  blue  eyes  fixed 
themselves  upon  Nehushta  w^'+h  a  strange  and  deadly 
look. 


232  ZOROASTER. 

"  Hold  your  peace  and  listen  to  me,"  said  Nehushta 
in  a  fierce,  low  voice,  and  her  slender  hand  stole  to 
the  haft  of  the  knife  by  her  side. 

Atossa  was  a  brave  woman,  false  though  she  was ; 
but  she  saw  that  the  Hebrew  princess  had  her  in  her 
power  —  she  saw  the  knife  and  she  saw  the  gleam  in 
those  black  eyes.  They  were  riveted  on  her  face,  and 
she  grew  grave  and  remained  silent. 

"  Tell  me  the  truth,"  pursued  Nehushta  hurriedly. 
"Did  Zoroaster  love  you  three  years  ago  —  when  I 
saw  you  in  his  arms  upon  the  terrace  the  morning 
when  he  came  back  from  Ecbatana  ?  " 

But  she  little  knew  the  woman  with  whom  she  had 
to  deal.  Atossa  had  found  time  in  that  brief  moment 
to  calculate  her  chances  of  safety.  A  weaker  woman 
would  have  lied;  but  the  fair  queen  saw  that  the 
moment  had  come  wherein  she  could  reap  a  rich  har- 
vest of  vengeance  upon  her  rival,  and  she  trusted  to 
her  coolness  and  strength  to  deliver  her  if  Nehushta 
actually  drew  the  knife  she  wore. 

"  I  loved  him,"  she  said  slowly.  "  I  love  him  yet, 
and  I  hate  you  more  than  I  love  him.  Do  you  under- 
stand?" 

"  Speak  —  go  on !  "  cried  Nehushta,  half  breathless 
with  anger. 

"  I  loved  him,  and  I  hated  you.  I  hate  you  still," 
repeated  the  queen  slowly  and  gravely.  "  The  letter 
I  had  from  him  was  written  to  you  —  but  it  was 
brought  to  me.  Nay  —  be  not  so  angry,  it  was  very 
long  ago.  Of  course  you  can  murder  me,  if  you 
please  —  you  have  me  in  your  power,  and  you  are  but 
a  cowardly  Jew,  like  twenty  of  my  slave-women.     I 


ZOROASTER.  233 

fear  you  not.  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  hear  the 
end?" 

Nehushta  had  come  nearer  and  stood  looking  down 
at  the  beautiful  woman,  her  arms  folded  before  her. 
Atossa  never  stirred  as  Nehushta  approached,  but 
kept  her  eye  steadily  fixed  on  hers.  Nehushta's  arms 
were  folded,  and  the  knife  hung  below  her  girdle  in 
its  loose  sheath. 

Atossa's  white  arm  went  suddenly  out  and  laid  hold 
of  the  haft,  and  the  keen  blue  steel  flashed  out  of  its 
scabbard  with  a  sheen  like  dark  lightning  on  a  sum- 
mer's evening. 

Nehushta  started  back  as  she  saw  the  sharp  weapon 
in  her  enemy's  hand.  But  Atossa  laughed  a  low 
sweet  laugh  of  triumph. 

"  You  shall  hear  the  end  now,"  she  said,  holding  the 
knife  firmly  in  her  hand.  "You  shall  not  escape 
hearing  the  end  now,  and  you  shall  not  murder  me 
with  your  Indian  poisoner  here."  She  laughed  again 
as  she  glanced  at  the  ugly  curve  of  the  dagger.  "  I 
was  talking  with  Zoroaster,"  she  continued,  "  when  I 
saw  you  upon  the  stairs,  and  then  —  oh,  it  was  so  sweet ! 
I  cried  out  that  he  should  never  leave  me  again,  and  I 
threw  my  arms  about  his  neck  —  his  lordly  neck  that 
you  so  loved !  —  and  I  fell,  so  that  he  had  to  hold  me 
up.  And  you  saw  him.  Oh,  it  was  sweet  I  It  was 
the  sweetest  moment  of  my  life  when  I  heard  you 
groan  and  hurry  away  and  leave  us  !  It  was  to  hurt 
you  that  I  did  it  —  that  I  humbled  my  queenliness 
before  him ;  but  I  loved  him,  though  —  and  he,  he  your 
lover,  whom  you  despised  then  and  cast  away  for  this 
black-faced  king  of  ours  —  he  thrust  me  from  him,  and 


234  ZOROASTER. 

pushed  mfe  off,  and  drove  me  weeping  to  my  chamber , 
and  he  said  he  loved  me  not,  nor  wished  my  love.  Ay, 
that  was  bitter,  for  I  was  ashamed  —  I  who  never  was 
shamed  of  man  or  woman.  But  there  was  more  sweet- 
ness in  your  torment  than  bitterness  in  my  shame. 
He  never  knew  you  were  there.  He  screamed  out  to 
you  from  the  crowd  in  the  procession  his  parting  curse 
on  your  unfaithfulness  and  went  out  —  but  he  nearly 
killed  those  two  strong  spearmen  who  tried  to  seize 
him.  How  strong  he  was  then,  how  brave !  What  a 
noble  lover  for  any  woman  !  So  tall  and  delicate  and 
fair  with  all  his  strength  !  He  never  knew  why  you 
left  him  —  he  thought  it  was  to  wear  the  king's  purple, 
to  thrust  a  bit  of  gold  in  your  hair !  He  must  have 
suffered  —  you  have  suffered  too  —  such  delicious 
torture,  I  have  often  soothed  myself  to  sleep  with 
the  thought  of  it.  It  is  very  sweet  for  me  to  see  you 
lying  there  with  my  wound  in  your  heart.  It  will 
rankle  long  ;  you  cannot  get  it  out  —  you  are  married 
to  the  king  now,  and  Zoroaster  has  turned  priest  for 
love  of  you.  I  think  even  the  king  would  hardly  love 
you  if  he  could  see  you  now  —  you  look  so  pale.  I 
will  send  for  the  Chaldean  physician  —  you  might  die. 
I  should  be  sorry  if  you  died,  you  could  not  suffer  any 
more  then.  I  could  not  give  up  the  pleasure  of  hurt- 
ing you — you  have  no  idea  how  delicious  it  is.  Oh, 
how  I  hate  you  !  " 

Atossa  rose  suddenly  to  her  feet,  with  flashing 
eyes.  Nehushta,  in  sheer  horror  of  such  hideous 
cruelty,  had  fallen  back  against  the  door-post,  and 
stood  grasping  the  curtain  with  one  hand  while  the 
other  was  pressed  to  her  heart,  as  though  to  control 


ZOROASTER.  235 

the  desperate  agony  she  suffered.  Her  face  was  paler 
than  the  dead,  and  her  long,  black  hair  fell  forward 
over  her  ghastly  cheeks. 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  more  ? "  Atossa  began  again. 
"  Should  you  like  to  hear  more  of  the  truth  ?  I  could 
tell  you  how  the  king " 

But  as  she  spoke,  Nehushta  threw  up  her  hands 
and  pressed  them  to  her  throbbing  temples  ;  and  with 
a  low  wail,  she  turned  and  fled  through  the  doorway 
between  the  thick  curtains,  that  parted  with  her 
weight  and  fell  together  again  when  she  had  passed. 

"  She  will  tell  the  king,"  said  Atossa  aloud,  when 
she  was  gone.  "I  care  not  —  but  I  will  keep  the 
knife,"  she  added,  laying  the  keen  blade  upon  the 
table,  amid  the  little  instruments  of  her  toilet. 

But  Nehushta  ran  fast  through  the  corridors  and 
halls  till  she  came  to  her  slaves  who  had  waited  for 
her  at  the  entrance  to  the  queen's  apartment.  Then 
she  seemed  to  recollect  herself,  and  slackened  her 
pace,  and  went  on  to  her  own  chambers.  But  her 
women  saw  her  pale  face,  and  whispered  together  as 
they  cautiously  followed  her. 

She  was  wretched  beyond  all  words.  In  a  moment, 
her  doubts  and  her  fears  had  all  been  realised,  and 
the  stain  of  unfaithfulness  had  been  washed  from 
the  memory  of  her  lover.  But  it  was  too  late  to  re- 
pent her  hastiness.  She  had  been  married  to  Darius 
now  for  nearly  three  years,  and  Zoroaster  was  a  man 
so  changed  that  she  would  hardly  have  recognised 
him  that  evening,  had  she  not  known  that  he  was  in 
the  palace.  He  looked  more  like  the  aged  Daniel 
whom  he  had  buried  at  Ecbatana  than  like  the  lordly 


236  ZOROASTER. 

warrior  of  three  years  ago.  She  wondered,  as  she 
thought  of  the  sound  of  his  voice  in  the  garden,  how 
she  could  ever  have  doubted  him,  and  the  remem- 
brance of  his  clear  eyes  was  both  bitter  and  sweet  to 
her. 

She  lay  upon  her  silken  pillows  and  wept  hot 
tears  for  him  she  had  loved  long  ago,  for  him  and 
for  herself  —  most  of  all  for  the  pain  she  had  made 
him  suffer,  for  that  bitter  agony  that  had  turned  his 
young,  fair  locks  to  snowy  white ;  she  wept  the  tears 
for  him  that  she  could  fancy  he  must  have  shed  in 
those  long  years  for  her.  She  buried  her  face  and 
sobbed  aloud,  so  that  even  the  black  fan-girl  who 
stood  waving  the  long  palm-leaf  over  her  in  the  dim 
light  of  the  bedchamber  —  even  the  poor  black  crea- 
ture from  the  farther  desert,  whom  her  mistress  did 
not  half  believe  human,  felt  pity  for  the  royal  sorrow 
she  saw,  and  took  one  hand  from  the  fan  to  brush  the 
tears  from  her  small  red  eyes. 

Nehushta's  heart  was  broken,  and  from  that  day 
none  saw  her  smile.  In  one  hour  the  whole  misery 
of  all  possible  miseries  came  upon  her,  and  bowed  her 
to  the  ground,  and  crushed  out  the  life  and  the  light 
of  her  nature.  As  she  lay  there,  she  longed  to  die,  as 
she  had  never  longed  for  anything  while  she  lived, 
and  she  would  have  had  small  hesitation  in  killing  the 
heart  that  beat  with  such  agonising  pain  in  her  breast 
—  saving  that  one  thought  prevented  her.  She  cared 
not  for  revenge  any  more.  What  was  the  life  of  that 
cold,  cruel  thing,  the  queen,  worth,  that  by  taking  it, 
she  could  gain  comfort?  But  she  felt  and  knew 
that,  before  she  died,  she  must  see  Zoroaster  once 


ZOROASTER.  237 

more,  and  tell  him  that  she  knew  all  the  truth — that 
she  knew  he  had  not  deceived  her,  and  that  she  im- 
plored his  forgiveness  for  the  wrong  she  had  done 
him.  He  would  let  her  rest  her  head  upon  his  breast 
and  weep  out  her  heartful  of  piteous  sorrow  once 
before  she  died.  And  then  —  the  quiet  stream  of  the 
Araxes  flowed  softly,  cold  and  clear,  among  the  rose- 
gardens  below  the  palace.  The  kindly  water  would 
take  her  to  its  bosom,  beneath  the  summer's  moon, 
and  the  nightingales  she  loved  would  sing  her  a  gentle 
good-night  —  good-night  for  ever,  while  the  cool  wave 
flowed  over  her  weary  breast  and  aching  head. 


238  ZOROASTER. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

On  the  next  day,  in  the  cool  of  the  evening,  Ne- 
hushta  walked  again  in  the  garden.  But  Zoroaster 
was  not  there.  And  for  several  days  Nehushta  came 
at  that  hour,  and  at  other  hours  in  the  day,  but  found 
him  not.  She  saw  him  indeed  from  time  to  time  in 
public,  but  she  had  no  opportunity  of  speaking  with 
him  as  she  desired.  At  last,  she  determined  to  send 
for  him,  and  to  see  whether  he  would  come,  or  not. 

She  went  out,  attended  only  by  two  slaves ;  the 
one  bearing  a  fan  and  the  other  a  small  carpet  and  a 
cushion  —  black  women  from  the  southern  parts  of 
Syria,  towards  Egypt,  who  would  not  understand  the 
high  Persian  she  would  be  likely  to  speak  with 
Zoroaster,  though  her  own  Hebrew  tongue  was  intel- 
ligible to  them.  When  she  reached  a  quiet  spot, 
where  one  of  the  walks  ended  suddenly  in  a  little 
circle  among  the  rose-trees,  far  down  from  the  palace, 
she  had  her  carpet  spread,  and  her  cushion  was  placed 
upon  it,  and  she  wearily  sat  down.  The  fan-girl 
began  to  ply  her  palm-leaf,  as  much  to  cool  the  heated 
summer  air  as  to  drive  away  the  swarms  of  tiny  gnats 
which  abounded  in  the  garden.  Nehushta  rested  upon 
one  elbow,  her  feet  drawn  together  upon  the  carpet 
of  dark  soft  colours  and  waited  a  few  minutes  as 
though  in  thought.  At  last  she  seemed  to  have 
decided,  and  turned  to  the  slave  who  had  brought  her 


ZOROASTER.  239 

cushion,  as  she  stood  at  a  little  distance,  motionless, 
her  hands  folded  and  hidden  under  the  thickness  of 
the  broad  sash  that  girded  her  tunic  at  the  waist. 

"  Go  thou,"  said  the  queen,  "  and  seek  out  the  high 
priest  Zoroaster,  and  bring  him  hither  quickly." 

The  black  woman  turned  and  ran  like  a  deer  down 
the  narrow  path,  disappearing  in  a  moment  amongst 
the  shrubbery. 

The  breeze  of  the  swinging  fan  blew  softly  on 
Nehushta's  pale  face  and  stirred  the  locks  of  heavy 
hair  that  fell  from  her  tiara  about  her  shoulders. 
Her  eyes  were  half  closed  as  she  leaned  back,  and 
her  lips  were  parted  in  a  weary  look  of  weakness  that 
was  new  to  her.  Nearly  an  hour  passed  and  the  sun 
sank  low,  but  Nehushta  hardly  stirred  from  her 
position. 

It  seemed  very  long  before  she  heard  steps  upon 
the  walk — the  quick  soft  step  of  the  slave-woman 
running  before,  barefooted  and  fleet,  and  presently 
the  heavier  tread  of  a  man's  leather  shoe.  The  slave 
stopped  at  the  entrance  to  the  little  circle  of  rose- 
trees,  and  a  moment  later,  Zoroaster  strode  forward, 
and  stood  still  and  made  a  deep  obeisance,  a  few 
steps  from  Nehushta. 

"  Forgive  me  that  I  sent  for  thee,  Zoroaster,"  said 
the  queen  in  quiet  tones.  But,  as  she  spoke,  a  slight 
blush  overspread  her  face,  and  relieved  her  deadly 
pallor.  "  Forgive  me  —  I  have  somewhat  to  say 
which  thou  must  hear." 

Zoroaster  remained  standing  before  her  as  she 
spoke,  and  his  luminous  eyes  rested  upon  her  quietly. 

"  I  wronged  thee  three  years  ago,  Zoroaster,"  said 


240  ZOROASTER. 

the  queen  in  a  low  voice,  but  looking  up  at  him.  "1 
pray  thee,  forgive  me  —  I  knew  not  what  I  did." 

"I  forgave  thee  long  ago,"  answered  the  high 
priest. 

"  I  did  thee  a  bitter  wrong  —  but  the  wrong  I  did 
myself  was  even  greater.  I  never  knew  till  I  went 
and  asked  —  her  !  "  At  the  thought  of  Atossa,  the 
Hebrew  woman's  eyes  flashed  fire,  and  her  small 
fingers  clenched  upon  her  palm.  But,  in  an  instant, 
her  sad,  weary  look  returned. 

"  That  is  all  —  if  you  forgive  me,"  she  said,  and 
turned  her  head  away.  It  seemed  to  her  that  there 
was  nothing  more  to  be  said.  He  did  not  love  her 
—  he  was  far  beyond  love. 

"  Now,  by  Ahura  Mazda,  I  have  indeed  forgiven 
thee.  The  blessing  of  the  All-Wise  be  upon  thee  !  " 
Zoroaster  bent  again,  as  though  to  take  his  leave,  and 
he  would  have  gone  from  her. 

But  when  she  heard  his  first  footsteps,  Nehushta 
raised  herself  a  little  and  turned  quickly  towards 
him.  It  seemed  as  though  the  only  light  she  knew 
were  departing  from  her  day. 

"  You  loved  me  once,"  she  said,  and  stopped,  with 
an  appealing  look  on  her  pale  face.  It  was  very  weak 
of  her ;  but  oh !  she  was  far  spent  with  sorrow  and 
grief.  Zoroaster  paused,  and  looked  back  upon  her, 
very  calmly,  very  gently. 

"  Ay  —  I  loved  you  once  —  but  not  now.  There 
is  no  more  love  in  the  earth  for  me.  But  I  bless  you 
for  the  love  you  gave  me." 

"I  loved  you  so  well,"  said  Nehushta.  "I  love 
you  still,"  she  added,  suddenly  raising  herself  and 


ZOROASTER.  241 

gazing  on  him  with  a  Avild  look  in  her  eyes.  "  Oh, 
I  love  you  still ! "  she  cried  passionately.  "I  thought 
I  had  put  you  away  —  forgotten  you  —  trodden  out 
your  memory  that  I  so  hated  I  could  not  bear  to  hear 
your  name  !  Ah  !  why  did  I  do  it,  miserable  woman 
that  I  am  !  I  love  you  now  —  T  love  you  —  I  love 
you  with  my  whole  heart  —  and  it  is  too  late  !  "  She 
fell  back  upon  her  cushion,  and  covered  her  face  with 
her  hands,  and  her  breast  heaved  with  passionate, 
tearless  sobbing. 

Zoroaster  stood  still,  and  a  deep  melancholy  came 
over  his  beautiful,  ethereal  face.  No  regret  stirred 
his  breast,  no  touch  of  the  love  that  had  been  waked 
his  heart  that  slept  for  ever  in  the  peace  of  the 
higher  life.  He  would  not  have  changed  from  him- 
self to  the  young  lover  of  three  years  ago,  if  he  had 
been  able.  But  he  stood  calm  and  sorrowful,  as  an 
angel  from  heaven  gazing  on  the  grief  of  the  world 
—  his  thoughts  full  of  sympathy  for  the  pains  of 
men,  his  soul  still  breathing  the  painless  peace  of 
the  outer  firmament  whence  he  had  come  and  whither 
he  would  return. 

"Nehushta,"  he  said  at  last,  seeing  that  her  sobbing 
did  not  cease,  "  it  is  not  meet  that  you  should  thus 
weep  for  anything  that  is  past.  Be  comforted ;  the 
years  of  life  are  few,  and  you  are  one  of  the  great  ones 
of  the  earth.  It  is  needful  that  all  should  suffer. 
Forget  not  that  although  your  heart  be  heavy,  you 
are  a  queen,  and  must  bear  yourself  as  a  queen. 
Take  your  life  strongly  in  your  hands  and  live  it 
The  end  is  not  far  and  your  peace  is  at  hand." 

Nehushta  looked  up  suddenly  and  grew  very  grave 
R 


242  ZOROASTER. 

as  he  spoke.  Her  heavy  eyes  rested  on  his,  and  she 
sighed  —  but  the  sigh  was  still  broken  by  the  trem- 
bling of  her  past  sobs. 

''  You,  who  are  a  priest  and  a  prophet,"  she  said, — ■ 
"  you,  who  read  the  heaven  as  it  were  a  book  —  tell 
me,  Zoroaster,  is  it  not  far  ?  Shall  we  meet  beyond 
the  stars,  as  you  used  to  tell  me  —  so  long  ago  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  far,"  he  answered,  and  a  gentle  smile 
illuminated  his  pale  face.  "Take  courage  —  for  truly 
it  is  not  far." 

He  gazed  into  her  eyes  for  a  moment,  and  it 
seemed  as  though  some  of  that  steadfast  light  pene- 
trated into  her  soul,  for  as  he  turned  and  went  his 
way  among  the  roses,  a  look  of  peace  descended  on 
her  tired  face,  and  she  fell  back  upon  her  cushion 
and  closed  her  eyes,  and  let  the  breeze  of  the  palm- 
fan  play  over  her  wan  cheeks  and  through  her  heavy 
hair. 

But  Zoroaster  returned  into  the  palace,  and  he  was 
very  thoughtful.  He  had  many  duties  to  perform, 
besides  the  daily  evening  sacrifice  in  the  temple,  for 
Darius  consulted  him  constantly  upon  many  matters 
connected  with  the  state ;  and  on  every  occasion 
Zoroaster's  keen  foresight  and  knowledge  of  men 
found  constant  exercise  in  the  development  of  the 
laws  and  statutes  Darius  was  forming  for  his  consoli- 
dated kingdom.  First  of  all,  the  question  of  religion 
seemed  to  him  of  paramount  importance  ;  and  here 
Zoroaster  displayed  all  his  great  powers  of  organisa- 
tion, as  well  as  the  true  and  just  ideas  he  held  upon 
the  subject.  Himself  an  ascetic  mystic,  he  foresaw 
the  danger  to  others  of  attempting  to  pursue   the 


ZOROASTER.  243 

same  course,  or  even  of  founding  a  system  of  mystical 
study.  The  object  of  mankind  must  be  the  welfare 
of  mankind,  and  a  set  of  priests  who  should  shut 
themselves  off  from  their  fellow-men  to  pursue  eso- 
teric studies  and  to  acquire  knowledge  beyond  the 
reach  of  common  humanity,  must  necessarily  forget 
humanity  itself  in  their  effort  to  escape  from  it.  The 
only  possible  scheme  upon  which  a  religion  for  the 
world  could  be  based  —  especially  for  such  a  world  as 
the  empire  of  Darius — -must  be  one  where  the  broad 
principle  of  common  good  living  stood  foremost,  and 
where  the  good  of  all  humanity  should  be  the  good 
of  each  man's  soul. 

The  vast  influence  of  Zoroaster's  name  grew  day 
by  day,  as  from  the  palace  of  Stakhar  he  sent  forth 
priests  to  the  variois  provinces,  full  of  his  own  ideas, 
bearing  with  them  a  simple  form  of  worship  and  a 
rigid  rule  of  life,  which  the  iron  laws  of  Darius  began 
at  once  to  enforce  to  the  letter.  The  vast  body  of 
existing  hymns,  of  which  many  were  by  no  means 
distinctly  Mazdayashnian,  were  reduced  to  a  limited 
number  containing  the  best  and  purest;  and  the 
multifarious  mass  of  conflicting  caste  practices,  partly 
imported  from  India,  and  partly  inherited  by  the 
pure  Persians  from  the  Aryan  home  in  Sogdiana,  was 
simplified  and  reduced  to  a  plain  rule.  The  endless 
rules  of  purification  were  cut  down  to  simple  meas- 
ures of  health ;  the  varying  practices  in  regard  to  the 
disposal  of  the  dead  were  all  done  away  with  by  a 
great  royal  edict  commanding  the  building  of  Dakh- 
mas,  or  towers  of  death,  all  over  the  kingdom ;  within 
which  the  dead  were  laid  by  persons  appointed  for 


244  ZOROASTER. 

the  purpose,  and  which  were  cleansed  by  them,  at 
stated  intervals.  Severe  measures  were  taken  to  pre- 
vent the  destruction  of  cattle,  for  there  were  evident 
signs  of  the  decrease  of  the  beasts  of  the  field  in  con- 
sequence of  the  many  internal  wars  that  had  waged 
of  late ;  and  special  laws  were  provided  for  the  safety 
of  dogs,  which  were  regarded,  for  all  reasons,  as  the 
most  valuable  companions  of  men  in  those  times,  as  a 
means  of  protection  to  the  flocks  in  the  wilderness, 
and  as  the  scavengers  and  cleansers  of  the  great 
cities.  Human  life  was  protected  by  the  most  rigor- 
ous laws,  and  the  utmost  attention  was  given  to  pro- 
viding for  the  treatment  of  women  of  all  classes.  It 
would  have  been  impossible  to  conceive  a  system  bet- 
ter fitted  to  develop  the  resources  of  a  semi-pastoral 
country,  to  preserve  peace  and  to  provide  for  the  in- 
creasing wants  and  the  public  health  of  a  multiplying 
people. 

As  for  the  religious  rites,  they  assumed  a  form  and 
a  character  which  made  them  seem  like  simplicity 
itself  by  the  side  of  the  former  systems  ;  and  which, 
although  somewhat  complicated  by  the  additions  and 
alterations  of  a  later  and  more  superstitious  genera- 
tion, have  still  maintained  the  noble  and  honourable 
characteristics  imparted  to  them  by  the  great  reformer 
and  compiler  of  the  Mazdayashnian  religion. 

The  days  flew  quickly  by,  and  Zoroaster's  power 
grew  apace.  It  was  as  though  the  whole  court  and 
kingdom  had  been  but  waiting  for  him  to  come  and 
be  the  representative  of  wisdom  and  justice  beside 
the  conquering  king,  who  had  in  so  short  a  time 
reduced  so  many  revolutions  and  fought  so  many 


ZOROASTER.  245 

fields  in  the  consolidation  of  his  empire.  Zoroaster 
laid  hold  of  all  the  existing  difficulties  with  a  master- 
hand.  His  years  of  retirement  seemed  to  have  given 
him  the  accumulated  force  of  many  men,  and  the 
effect  of  his  wise  measures  was  quickly  felt  in  every 
quarter  of  the  provinces ;  while  his  words  went  forth 
like  fire  in  the  mouths  of  the  priests  he  sent  from 
Stakhar.  He  had  that  strange  and  rare  gift,  whereby 
a  man  inspires  in  his  followers  the  profoundest  con- 
fidence and  the  greatest  energy  to  the  performance 
of  his  will.  He  would  have  overthrown  a  world  had 
he  found  himself  resisted  and  oppressed,  but  every 
one  of  his  statutes  and  utterances  was  backed  by  the 
royal  arms  and  enforced  by  decrees  against  which 
there  was  no  appeal.  In  a  few  months  his  name  was 
spoken  wherever  the  Persian  rule  was  felt,  and  spoken 
everywhere  with  a  high  reverence ;  in  which  there 
was  no  fear  mixed,  such  as  people  felt  when  they 
mentioned  the  Great  King,  and  added  quickly: 
"  May  he  live  for  ever  !  " 

In  a  few  months  the  reform  was  complete,  and  the 
half-clad  ascetic  had  risen  by  his  own  wisdom  and  by 
the  power  of  circumstances  into  the  chiefest  position 
in  all  Persia.  Loaded  with  dignities,  treated  as  the 
next  to  the  Great  King  in  all  things,  wearing  the 
royal  chain  of  office  over  his  white  priest's  robes,  and 
sitting  at  the  right  hand  of  Darius  at  the  feast,  Zoro- 
aster nevertheless  excited  no  envy  among  the  cour- 
tiers, nor  encroached  in  any  way  upon  their  privileges. 
The  few  men  whom  Darius  trusted  were  indeed  rarely 
at  Stakhar,  —  the  princes  who  had  conspired  against 
Smerdis,  and  Hydarnes  and  a  few  of  the  chief  officers 


246  ZOROASTER. 

of  the  army,  —  they  were  mostly  in  the  various  prov« 
inces,  in  command  of  troops  and  fortresses,  actively 
employed  in  enforcing  the  measures  the  king  was 
framing  with  Zoroaster,  and  which  Avere  to  work  such 
great  changes  in  the  destinies  of  the  empire.  But 
when  any  of  the  princes  or  generals  were  summoned 
to  the  court  by  the  king  and  learned  to  know  what 
manner  of  man  this  Zoroaster  was,  they  began  to 
love  him  and  to  honour  him  also,  as  all  those  did 
who  were  near  him.  And  they  went  away,  saying 
that  never  king  had  so  wise  and  just  a  counsellor  as 
he  was,  nor  one  so  worthy  of  trust  in  the  smallest  as 
in  the  greatest  things. 

But  the  two  queens  watched  him,  and  watched  his 
growing  power,  with  different  feelings.  Nehushta 
scarcely  ever  spoke  to  him,  but  gazed  at  him  from 
her  sad  eyes  when  none  saw  her;  pondering  over  his 
prophecy  that  foretold  the  end  so  near  at  hand.  She 
had  a  pride  in  seeing  her  old  lover  the  strongest  in 
the  whole  land,  holding  the  destinies  of  the  kingdom 
as  in  a  balance  ;  and  it  was  a  secret  consolation  to 
her  to  know  that  he  had  been  faithful  to  her  after 
all,  and  that  it  was  for  her  sake  that  he  had  with- 
drawn into  the  desert  and  given  himself  to  those 
meditations  from  which  he  had  only  issued  to  enjoy 
the  highest  power.  And  as  she  looked  at  him,  she 
saw  how  he  was  much  changed,  and  it  hardly  seemed 
as  though  in  his  body  he  were  the  same  man  she  had 
so  loved.  Only  when  he  spoke,  and  she  heard  the 
even,  musical  tones  of  his  commanding  voice,  she 
Si^metimes  felt  the  blood  rise  to  her  cheeks  with  the 
"^ouging  to  hear  once  more  some  word  of  tender  love, 


ZOROASTER.  247 

such  as  lie  had  been  used  to  speak  to  her.  But 
though  he  often  looked  at  her  and  greeted  her  ever 
kmdly,  his  quiet,  luminous  eyes  changed  not  when 
they  gazed  on  her,  nor  was  there  any  warmer  touch 
of  colour  in  the  waxen  whiteness  of  his  face.  His 
youth  was  utterly  gone,  as  the  golden  light  had 
faded  from  his  hair.  He  was  not  like  an  old  man  — 
he  was  hardly  like  a  man  at  all;  but  rather  like 
some  beautiful,  strange  angel  from  another  world, 
who  moved  among  men  and  spoke  with  them,  but 
was  not  of  them.  She  seemed  to  look  upon  a  mem- 
ory, to  love  the  shadow  cast  on  earth  by  a  being  that 
was  gone.  But  she  loved  the  memory  and  the 
shadow  well,  and  month  by  month,  as  she  gazed,  she 
grew  more  wan  and  weary. 

It  would  not  have  been  like  Darius  to  take  any 
notice  of  a  trouble  that  did  not  present  itself  palpa- 
bly before  him  and  demand  his  attention.  Nehushta 
scarcely  ever  spoke  of  Zoroaster,  and  w^hen  the  king 
mentioned  him  to  her,  it  was  always  in  connection 
with  affairs  of  state.  She  seemed  cold  and  indiffer- 
ent, and  the  hot-blooded  soldier  monarch  no  longer 
looked  on  Zoroaster  as  a  possible  rival.  He  had 
white  hair  —  he  was  therefore  an  old  man,  out  of  all 
questions  of  love.  But  Darius  was  glad  that  the 
Hebrew  queen  never  referred  to  former  times,  nor 
ever  seemed  to  regret  her  old  lover.  Had  he  known 
of  that  night  meeting  in  Atossa's  toilet  chamber,  and 
of  what  Atossa  had  said  then,  his  fury  would  prob- 
ably have  had  no  bounds.  But  he  never  knew. 
Nehushta  was  too  utterly  broken-hearted  by  the  blow 
she  had  received  to  desire  vengeance,  and  though  she 


248  ZOROASTER. 

quietly  scorned  all  intercourse  with  the  woman  who 
had  injured  her,  she  cared  not  to  tell  the  king  of  the 
injury.  It  was  too  late.  Had  she  known  of  the 
cruel  deception  that  had  been  practised  on  her,  one 
hour  before  she  had  married  Darius,  Atossa  would 
have  been  in  her  grave  these  three  years,  and 
Nehushta  would  not  have  been  queen.  But  the  king 
knew  none  of  these  things,  and  rejoiced  daily  in  the 
wisdom  of  his  chief  counsellor  and  in  the  favour 
Auramazda  had  shown  in  sending  him  such  a  man  in 
his  need. 

Meanwhile,  Atossa's  hatred  grew  apace.  She  saw 
with  anger  that  her  power  of  tormenting  Nehushta 
was  gone  from  her,  that  the  spirit  she  had  loved  to 
torture  was  broken  beyond  all  sensibility,  and  that 
the  man  who  had  scorned  her  love  was  grown  greater 
than  she.  Against  his  wisdom  and  the  king's 
activity,  she  could  do  little,  and  her  strength  seemed 
to  spend  itself  in  vain.  Darius  laughed  mercilessly 
at  her  cunning  objections  to  Zoroaster's  reforms ;  and 
Zoroaster  himself  eyed  her  coldly,  and  passed  her  by 
in  silence  when  they  met. 

She  bethought  herself  of  some  scheme  whereby  to 
destroy  Zoroaster's  power  by  a  sudden  and  violent 
shock;  and  for  a  time,  she  affected  a  more  than 
usual  serenity  of  manner,  and  her  smile  was  sweeter 
than  ever.  If  it  were  possible,  she  thought,  to 
attract  the  king's  attention  and  forces  to  some  dis- 
tant point,  it  would  not  be  a  difficult  matter  to  pro- 
duce a  sudden  rising  or  disturbance  in  Stakhar,  sit- 
uated as  the  place  was  upon  the  very  extreme  border 
of  the  kingdom,  within  a  few  hours'  march  across  the 


ZOROASTER.  249 

hills  from  the  uncivilised  desert  country,  which  was 
infested  at  that  time  with  hostile  and  turbulent 
tribes.  She  had  a  certain  number  of  faithful  re- 
tainers at  her  command  still,  whom  she  could  employ 
as  emissaries  in  both  directions,  and  in  spite  of  the 
scene  that  had  taken  place  at  Shushan  when  Phraor- 
tes  was  brought  to  her  by  the  king,  she  knew  she 
could  still  command  his  services  for  a  revolution. 
He  was  a  Magian  at  heart,  and  hated  the  existing 
monarchy.  He  was  rich  and  powerful,  and  un- 
boundedly vain  —  he  could  easily  be  prevailed  upon 
to  accept  the  principality  of  Media  as  a  reward  for 
helping  to  destroy  the  Persian  kingdom ;  and  indeed 
the  matter  had  been  discussed  between  him  and  the 
queen  long  ago. 

Atossa  revolved  her  scheme  in  her  mind  most  care- 
fully for  two  whole  months,  and  at  last  she  resolved 
to  act.  Eluding  all  vigilance  of  the  king,  and  laugh- 
ing to  herself  at  the  folly  of  Darius  and  Zoroaster  in 
allowing  her  such  liberty,  she  succeeded  without  much 
trouble  in  despatching  a  letter  to  Phraortes,  inquiring 
whether  her  affairs  were  now  in  such  a  prosperous 
condition  as  to  admit  of  their  being  extended. 

On  the  other  hand,  she  sent  a  black  slave  she 
owned,  with  gifts,  into  the  country  of  the  barbarian 
tribes  beyond  the  hills,  to  discover  whether  they 
could  be  easily  tempted.  This  man  she  bribed  with 
the  promise  of  freedom  and  rich  possessions,  to  un- 
dertake the  dangerous  mission.  She  knew  him  to  be 
faithful,  and  able  to  perform  the  part  he  was  to  play. 

In  less  than  two  months  Phraortes  sent  a  reply, 
wherein  he  stated  that  the  queen's  affairs  were  so 


250  ZOBOASTER. 

prosperous  that  they  might  with  safety  be  extended 
as  she  desired,  and  that  he  was  ready  to  undertake 
any  improvements  provided  she  sent  him  the  neces- 
sary directions  and  instructions. 

The  slave  returned  from  the  land  of  the  dwellers 
in  tents,  with  the  information  that  they  were  numer- 
ous as  the  sands  of  the  sea,  riding  like  the  whirlwinds 
across  the  desert,  keen  as  a  race  of  eagles  for  prey, 
devouring  as  locusts  spreading  over  a  field  of  corn, 
and  greedy  as  jackals  upon  the  track  of  a  wounded 
antelope.  Nothing  but  the  terror  of  the  Great  King's 
name  restrained  them  within  their  boundaries  ;  which 
they  would  leave  at  a  moment's  notice,  as  allies  of 
any  one  who  would  pay  them.  They  dwelt  mostly 
beyond  the  desert  to  eastward  in  the  low  hill  coun- 
try; and  they  shaved  their  beards  and  slept  with 
their  horses  in  their  tents.  They  were  more  horrible 
to  look  upon  than  the  devils  of  the  mountains,  and 
fiercer  than  wolves  upon  the  mountain  paths. 

Allowing  for  the  imagery  of  her  slave's  account, 
Atossa  comprehended  that  the  people  described  could 
be  easily  excited  to  make  a  hostile  descent  upon  the 
southern  part  of  the  kingdom,  and  notably  upon  the 
unprotected  region  about  Stakhar,  where  the  fortress 
could  afford  shelter  to  a  handful  of  troops  and  fugi- 
tives, but  could  in  no  wise  defend  the  whole  of  the 
fertile  district  from  a  hostile  incursion. 

Atossa  spent  much  time  in  calculating  the  distance 
from  the  palace  to  the  fortress,  and  she  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  a  body  of  persons  moving  with  some 
encumbrance  might  easily  reach  the  stronghold  in 
half  a  day.     Her  plan  was  a  simple  one,  and  easy  of 


ZOROASTER.  251 

execution ;  though  there  was  no  limit  to  the  evil  re- 
sults its  success  might  have  upon  the  kingdom. 

She  intended  that  a  revolution  should  break  out  in 
Media,  not  under  the  leadership  of  Phraortes,  lest  she 
herself  should  perish,  having  been  already  suspected 
of  complicity  with  him.  But  a  man  could  be  found 
—  some  tool  of  her  powerful  agent,  who  could  be 
readily  induced  to  set  himself  up  as  a  pretender  to 
the  principality  of  the  province,  and  he  could  easily 
be  crushed  at  a  later  period  by  Phraortes,  who  would 
naturally  furnish  the  money  and  supplies  for  the 
insurrection. 

As  soon  as  the  news  reached  Stakhar,  Darius  would, 
in  all  probability,  set  out  for  Media  in  haste  to  arrive 
at  the  scene  of  the  disturbance.  He  would  probably 
leave  Zoroaster  behind  to  manage  the  affairs  of  state, 
which  had  centred  in  Stakhar  during  the  last  year 
and  more.  If,  however,  he  took  him  with  him,  and 
left  the  court  to  follow  on  as  far  as  Shushan,  Atossa 
could  easily  cause  an  incursion  of  the  barbarous  tribes 
from  the  desert.  The  people  of  the  south  would  find 
themselves  abandoned  by  the  king,  and  would  rise 
against  him,  and  Atossa  could  easily  seize  the  power. 
If  Zoroaster  remained  behind,  the  best  plan  would  be 
to  let  the  barbarians  take  their  own  course  and 
destroy  him.  Separated  from  any  armed  force  of 
magnitude  sufficient  to  cope  with  a  sudden  invasion, 
he  would  surely  fall  in  the  struggle,  or  take  refuge 
in  an  ignominious  flight.  With  the  boldness  of  her 
nature,  Atossa  trusted  to  circumstances  to  provide 
her  with  an  easy  escape  for  herself ;  and  in  the  last 
instance,  she   trusted,  as  she  had  ever  done,  to  her 


252  ZOROASTER. 

marvellous  beauty  to  save  her  from  harm.  To  hei 
beauty  alone  she  owed  her  escape  from  many  a  fit  of 
murderous  anger  in  the  time  of  Cambyses,  and  to  her 
beauty  she  owed  her  salvation  when  Darius  found 
her  at  Shushan,  the  wife  and  accomplice  of  the 
impostor  Smerdis.  She  might  again  save  herself  by 
that  means,  if  by  no  other,  should  she,  by  any  mis- 
chance, fall  into  the  hands  of  the  barbarians.  But 
she  was  determined  to  overthrow  Zoroaster,  even  if 
she  had  to  destroy  her  husband's  kingdom  in  the 
effort.  It  was  a  bold  and  simple  plan,  and  she 
doubted  not  of  being  successful. 

During  the  months  wliile  she  was  planning  these 
things,  she  was  very  calm  and  placid ;  her  eyes  met 
Zoroaster's  with  a  frank  and  friendly  glance  that 
would  have  disarmed  one  less  completely  convinced 
of  her  badness ;  and  her  smile  never  failed  the  king 
when  he  looked  for  it.  She  bore  his  jests  with  un- 
failing equanimity  and  gentleness,  for  she  felt  that 
she  should  not  have  to  bear  them  long.  Even  to 
Nehushta  she  gave  an  occasional  glance  as  though  of 
hurt  sympathy  —  a  look  that  seemed  to  say  to  the 
world  that  she  regretted  the  Hebrew  queen's  sullen 
temper  and  moody  ways,  so  different  from  her  own, 
but  regarded  them  all  the  while  as  the  outward  mani- 
festation of  some  sickness,  for  which  she  was  to  be 
pitied  rather  than  blamed. 

But,  as  the  time  sped,  her  heart  grew  more  and 
more  glad,  for  the  end  was  at  hand,  and  there  was  a 
smell  of  death  in  the  air  of  the  sweet  rose-valley. 


ZOROASTER.  253 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Once  more  the  spring  months  had  come,  and  the 
fields  grew  green  and  the  trees  put  forth  their  leaves. 
Four  years  had  passed  since  Daniel  had  died  in 
Ecbatana,  leaving  his  legacy  of  wisdom  to  Zoroaster ; 
and  almost  a  year  had  gone  by  since  Zoroaster  had 
returned  to  the  court  at  Stakhar.  The  time  had 
sped  very  swiftly,  except  for  Nehushta,  whose  life 
was  heavy  with  a  great  weariness  and  her  eyes  hol- 
low with  suffering  sleeplessness.  She  was  not  always 
the  same,  saving  that  she  was  always  unhappy.  There 
were  days  when  she  was  resigned  to  her  lot  and 
merely  hoped  that  it  would  soon  be  over;  and  she 
wondered  how  it  was  that  she  did  not  slip  out  of  the 
gardens  at  evening,  and  go  and  sink  her  care  and  her 
great  sorrow  in  the  cool  waves  of  the  Araxes,  far  down 
below.  But  then  the  thought  came  over  her  that  she 
must  see  his  face  once  more  ;  and  it  was  always  once 
more,  so  that  the  last  time  never  came.  And  again, 
there  were  days  when  she  hoped  all  things,  madly, 
indiscriminately,  without  sequence  —  the  king  might 
die,  Zoroaster  might  again  love  her,  all  might  be  well. 
But  the  mood  of  a  hope  that  is  senseless  is  very  fleet, 
and  despair  follows  close  in  its  footsteps.  Nehushta 
grew  each  time  more  sad,  as  she  grew  more  certain 
that  for  her  there  was  no  hope. 

At  least  it  seemed  as  though  Atossa  had  given  up 


254  ZOROASTER. 

loving  Zoroaster  and  thought  no  more  of  him  than  of 
another.  Indeed  Atossa  seemed  more  anxious  to  please 
the  king  than  formerly,  in  proportion  as  Darius  seemed 
less  easily  pleased  by  her.  But  over  all,  Zoroaster's 
supremacy  was  felt  in  the  palace,  and  though  he  was 
never  known  to  be  angry  with  any  one,  he  was  more 
feared  than  the  fierce  king  himself,  for  his  calm  clear 
eyes  were  hard  to  meet  and  the  words  that  fell  from 
his  lips  had  in  them  the  ring  of  fate.  Moreover,  he 
was  known  and  his  power  was  dreaded  from  one  end 
of  the  kingdom  to  the  other,  and  his  name  was  like  the 
king's  signet,  which  sealed  all  things,  and  there  was  no 
appeal. 

Upon  a  fair  morning  in  the  spring-time,  when  the 
sun  was  shining  outside  upon  the  roses  still  wet  with 
dew,  the  king  sat  in  an  inner  hall,  half  lying  upon  a 
broad  couch,  on  which  the  warm  rays  of  the  sun  fell 
through  an  upper  window.  He  was  watching  with 
absorbed  attention  the  tricks  of  an  Indian  juggler  who 
had  lately  arrived  at  the  court,  and  whom  he  had 
summoned  that  morning  to  amuse  a  leisure  hour,  for 
when  the  king  was  not  actively  engaged  in  business, 
or  fighting,  he  loved  some  amusement,  being  of  a 
restless  temper  and  mind  that  needed  constant  occu- 
pation. 

Atossa  sat  near  him,  upon  a  carved  chair,  turning 
over  and  over  in  her  fingers  a  string  of  pearls  as  she 
gazed  at  the  performances  of  the  juggler.  Two  spear- 
men, clad  in  blue  and  scarlet  and  gold,  stood  motion- 
less by  the  door,  and  Darius  and  Atossa  watched  the 
sleight-handed  Indian  alone. 

The  man  tossed  a  knife  into  the  air  and  caught  it, 


ZOKOASTEE.  255 

then  two,  then  three,  increasing  the  number  in  rapid 
succession  till  a  score  of  bright  blades  made  a  shining 
circle  in  the  air  as  he  quickly  tossed  them  up  and 
passed  them  from  hand  to  hand  and  tossed  them  again. 
Darius  laughed  at  the  man's  skill,  and  looked  up  at 
the  queen. 

"  You  remind  me  of  that  fellow,"  said  Darius. 

"  The  king  is  very  gracious  to  his  handmaiden," 
answered  Atossa,  smiling,  "  I  think  I  am  less  skilful, 
but  more  fair." 

"You  are  fairer,  it  is  true,"  returned  the  king; 
"  but  as  for  your  skill,  I  know  not.  You  seem  always 
to  be  playing  with  knives,  but  you  never  wound  your- 
self any  more  than  he  does." 

The  queen  looked  keenly  at  Darius,  but  her  lips 
smiled  gently.  The  thought  crossed  her  mind  that 
the  king  perhaps  knew  something  of  what  had  passed 
between  her  and  Nehushta  nearly  a  year  before,  with 
regard  to  a  certain  Indian  dagger.  The  knives  the 
juggler  tossed  in  the  air  reminded  her  of  it  by  their 
shape.  But  the  king  laughed  gaily  and  she  answered 
without  hesitation : 

"  I  would  it  were  true,  for  then  I  could  be  not  only 
the  king's  wife,  but  the  king's  juggler !  " 

"I  meant  not  so,"  laughed  Darius.  "The  two 
would  hardly  suit  one  another." 

"  And  yet,  I  need  more  skill  than  this  Indian  fel- 
low- to  be  the  king's  wife,"  answered  the  queen 
slowly. 

"Said  I  not  so?" 

u;^a^y  —  ]3ut  you  meant  not  so,"  replied  Atossa, 
looking  down. 


256  ZOROASTEE. 

"  What  I  say,  I  mean,"  he  returned.  "  You  need 
all  the  fairness  of  your  face  to  conceal  the  evil  in 
your  heart,  as  this  man  needs  all  his  skill  in  hand- 
ling those  sharp  knives,  that  would  cut  off  his  fin- 
gers if,  unawares,  he  touched  the  wrong  edge  of 
them." 

"  I  conceal  nothing,"  said  the  queen,  with  a  light 
laugh.  "  The  king  has  a  thousand  eyes  —  how  should 
I  conceal  anything  from  him  ?  " 

"  That  is  a  question  which  I  constantly  ask  my- 
self," answered  Darius.  "  And  yet,  I  often  think  I 
know  your  thoughts  less  well  than  those  of  the  black 
girl  who  fans  you  when  you  are  hot,  and  whose  atten- 
tion is  honestly  concentrated  upon  keeping  the  flies 
from  your  face  —  or  of  yonder  stolid  spearmen  at 
the  door,  who  watch  us,  and  honestly  wish  they  were 
kings  and  queens,  to  lie  all  day  upon  a  silken  couch, 
and  watch  the  tricks  of  a  paid  conjurer." 

As  Darius  spoke,  the  guards  he  glanced  at  turned 
suddenly  and  faced  each  other,  standing  on  each  side 
of  the  doorway,  and  brought  their  heavy  spears  to 
the  ground  with  a  ringing  noise.  In  a  moment  the 
tall,  thin  figure  of  Zoroaster,  in  his  white  robes, 
appeared  between  them.  He  stopped  respectfully  at 
the  threshold,  waiting  for  the  king  to  notice  him,  for, 
in  spite  of  his  power  and  high  rank,  he  chose  to  main- 
tain rigidly  the  formalities  of  the  court. 

Darius  made  a  sign  and  the  juggler  caught  his 
whirling  knives,  one  after  the  other,  and  thrust  them 
into  his  bag,  and  withdrew. 

"  Hail,  Zoroaster  !  "  said  the  king.  ''  Come  near 
and  sit  beside  me,  and  tell  me  your  business." 


ZOKOASTER.  257 

Zoroaster  came  forward  and  made  a  salutation,  but 
he  remained  standing,  as  though  the  matter  on  which 
he  came  were  urgent. 

"  Hail,  king,  and  live  for  ever  !  "  he  said.  "  I  am  a 
bearer  of  evil  news.  A  rider  has  come  speeding  from 
Ecbatana,  escaped  from  the  confusion.  Media  has 
revolted,  and  the  king's  guards  are  besieged  within 
the  fortress  of  Ecbatana." 

Darius  sat  upright  upon  the  edge  of  his  couch ;  the 
knotted  veins  upon  his  temples  swelled  with  sudden 
anger  and  his  brow  flushed  darkly. 

"  Doubtless  it  is  Phraortes  who  has  set  himself  up 
as  king,"  he  said.  Then,  suddenly  and  fiercely,  he 
turned  upon  Atossa.  "  Now  is  your  hour  come,"  he 
cried  in  uncontrollable  anger.  "  You  shall  surely  die 
this  day,  for  you  have  done  this,  and  the  powers  of 
evil  shall  have  your  soul,  which  is  of  them,  and  of 
none  other." 

Atossa,  for  the  fkst  time  in  her  whole  life,  turned 
pale  to  the  lips  and  trembled,  for  she  already  seemed 
to  taste  death  in  the  air.  But  even  then,  her  bold- 
ness did  not  desert  her,  and  she  rose  to  her  feet  with 
a  stateliness  and  a  calmness  that  almost  awed  the 
king's  anger  to  silence. 

"  Slay  me  if  thou  wilt,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice,  but 
firmly.  "I  am  innocent  of  this  deed."  The  great 
lie  fell  from  her  lips  with  a  calmness  that  a  martyr 
might  have  envied.  But  Zoroaster  stepped  between 
her  and  the  king.  As  he  passed  her,  his  clear,  calm 
eyes  met  hers  for  a  moment.  He  read  in  her  face  the 
fear  of  death,  and  he  pitied  her. 

"Let   the   king   hear   me,"  he   said.     "It   is   not 

s 


258  ZOEOASTER. 

Phraortes  who  has  headed  the  revolt,  and  it  is  told 
me  that  Phraortes  has  fled  from  Ecbatana.  Let  the 
king  send  forth  his  armies  and  subdue  the  rebels,  and 
let  this  woman  go  ;  for  the  fear  of  death  is  upon  her 
and  it  may  be  that  she  has  not  sinned  in  this  matter. 
And  if  she  have  indeed  sinned,  will  the  king  make 
war  upon  women,  or  redden  his  hands  with  the  blood 
of  his  own  wife  ?  " 

"  You  speak  as  a  priest  —  I  feel  as  a  man,"  re- 
turned the  king,  savagely.  "  This  woman  has  de- 
served death  many  times  —  let  her  die.  So  shall  we 
be  free  of  her." 

"  It  is  not  lawful  to  do  this  thing,"  returned  Zoro- 
aster coldly,  and  his  glance  rested  upon  the  angry 
face  of  Darius,  as  he  spoke,  and  seemed  to  subdue  his 
furious  wrath.  "  The  king  cannot  know  whether 
she  have  deserved  death  or  not,  until  he  have  the 
rebels  of  Ecbatana  before  him.  Moreover,  the  blood 
of  a  woman  is  a  perpetual  shame  to  the  man  who  has 
shed  it." 

The  king  seemed  to  waver,  and  Atossa,  who  watched 
him  keenly,  understood  that  the  moment  had  come  in 
which  she  might  herself  make  an  appeal  to  him.  In 
the  suddenness  of  the  situation  she  had  time  to  ask 
herself  why  Zoroaster,  whom  she  had  so  bitterly  in- 
jured, should  intercede  for  her.  She  could  not  under- 
stand his  nobility  of  soul,  and  she  feared  some  trap, 
into  which  she  should  fall  by  and  by.  But,  mean- 
while, she  chose  to  appeal  to  the  king's  mercy  her- 
self, lest  she  should  feel  that  she  owed  her  preserva- 
tion wholly  to  Zoroaster.  It  was  a  bold  thought, 
worthy  of  a  woman  of  her  strength,  in  a  moment  of 
supreme  danger. 


ZOROASTER.  259 

With  a  quick  movement  she  tore  the  tiara  from 
her  head  and  let  it  fall  upon  the  floor.  The  mass  of 
her  silken  hair  fell  all  about  her  like  a  vesture  of 
gold,  and  she  threw  herself  at  the  king's  feet,  em- 
bracing his  knees  with  a  passionate  gesture  of  appeal. 
Her  face  was  very  pale,  and  the  beauty  of  it  seemed 
to  grow  by  the  unnatural  lack  of  colour,  while  her 
soft  blue  eyes  looked  up  into  the  king's  face  with 
such  an  expression  of  imploring  supplication  that  he 
was  fain  to  acknowledge  to  himself  that  she  moved 
his  heart,  for  she  had  never  looked  so  fair  before. 
She  spoke  no  word,  but  held  his  knees,  and  as  she 
gazed,  two  beautiful  great  tears  rolled  slowly  from 
under  her  eyelids,  and  trembled  upon  her  pale,  soft 
cheeks,  and  her  warm,  quick  breath  went  up  to  his  face. 

Darius  tried  to  push  her  from  him,  but  she  would 
not  go,  and  he  was  forced  to  look  at  her,  and  his  anger 
melted,  and  he  smiled  somewhat  grimly,  though  his 
brows  were  bent. 

"  Go  to,"  he  said,  "  I  jested.  It  is  impossible  for  a 
man  to  slay  anything  so  beautiful  as  you." 

Atossa's  colour  returned  to  her  cheeks,  and  bend- 
ing down,  she  kissed  the  king's  knees  and  his  hands, 
and  her  golden  hair  fell  all  about  her  and  upon  the 
king's  lap.  But  Darius  rose  impatiently,  and  left  her 
kneeling  by  the  couch.  He  was  already  angry  with 
himself  for  having  forgiven  her,  and  he  hated  his  own 
weakness  bitterly. 

"I  will  myself  go  hence  at  once  with  the  guards, 
and  I  will  take  half  the  force  from  the  fortress  of 
Stakhar  and  go  to  Shushan,  and  thence,  with  the  army 
that  is  there,  I  will  be  in  Ecbatana  in  a  few  days. 


260  ZOROASTER. 

And  I  will  utterly  crush  out  these  rebels  who  speak 
lies  and  do  not  acknowledge  me.  Remain  here,  Zoro- 
aster, and  govern  this  province  until  I  return  in 
triumph." 

Darius  glanced  once  more  at  Atossa,  who  lay  by 
the  couch,  half  upon  it  and  half  upon  the  floor,  seem- 
ingly dazed  at  what  had  occurred  ;  and  then  he  turned 
upon  his  heel  and  strode  out  of  the  room  between  the 
two  spearmen  of  the  guard,  who  raised  their  weapons 
as  he  passed,  and  followed  him  with  a  quick,  rhyth- 
mical tread  down  the  broad  corridor  outside. 

Zoroaster  was  left  alone  with  the  queen. 

As  soon  as  Darius  was  gone,  Atossa  rose  to  her 
feet,  and  with  all  possible  calmness  proceeded  to  re- 
arrange her  disordered  hair  and  to  place  her  head-dress 
upon  her  head.  Zoroaster  stood  and  watched  her ; 
her  hand  trembled  a  little,  but  she  seemed  otherwise 
unmoved  by  what  had  occurred.  She  glanced  up  at 
him  from  under  her  eyelids  as  she  stood  with  her  head 
bent  down  and  her  hands  raised,  to  arrange  her  hair. 

"  Why  did  you  beg  the  king  to  spare  my  life?  "  she 
asked.     "  You,  of  all  men,  must  wish  me  dead." 

"  I  do  not  wish  you  dead,"  he  answered  coldly. 
"  You  have  yet  much  evil  to  do  in  the  world,  but  it 
will  not  be  all  evil.  Neither  did  I  need  to  intercede 
for  you.  Your  time  is  not  come,  and  though  the  king's 
hand  were  raised  to  strike  you,  it  would  not  fall  upon 
you,  for  you  are  fated  to  accomplish  many  things." 

"Do  you  not  hate  me,  Zoroaster?" 

It  was  one  of  the  queen's  chief  characteristics  that 
she  never  attempted  concealment  when  it  could  be  of 
no  use,  and  in  such  cases  affected  an  almost  brutal 


ZOROASTER.  261 

frankness.  She  almost  laughed  as  she  asked  the 
question  —  it  seemed  so  foolish,  and  yet  she  asked  it. 

"  I  do  not  hate  you,"  answered  the  priest.  "  You 
are  beneath  hatred." 

"  And  I  presume  you  are  far  above  it  ? "  she  said 
very  scornfully,  and  eyed  him  in  silence  for  a  moment. 
"  You  are  a  poor  creature,"  she  pursued,  presently. 
*'  I  heartily  despise  you.  You  suffered  yourself  to  be 
deceived  by  a  mere  trick;  you  let  the  woman  you 
loved  go  from  you  without  an  effort  to  keep  her.  You 
might  have  been  a  queen's  lover,  and  you  despised 
her.  And  now,  when  you  could  have  the  woman  who 
did  you  a  mortal  injury  be  led  forth  to  death  before 
your  eyes,  you  interceded  for  her  and  saved  her  life. 
You  are  a  fool.     I  despise  you." 

"  I  rejoice  that  you  do,"  returned  Zoroaster  coldly. 
"I  would  not  have  your  admiration,  if  I  might  be 
paid  for  receiving  it  with  the  whole  world  and  the 
wisdom  thereof." 

"Not  even  if  you  might  have  for  your  wife  the 
woman  you  loved  in  your  poor,  insipid  way  —  but  you 
loved  her  nevertheless  ?  She  is  pale  and  sorrowful, 
poor  creature  ;  she  haunts  the  gardens  like  the  shadow 
of  death;  she  wearies  the  king  with  her  wan  face. 
She  is  eating  her  heart  out  for  you  —  the  king  took 
her  from  you,  you  could  take  her  from  him  to-morrow, 
if  you  pleased.  The  greater  your  folly,  because  you 
do  not.  As  for  her,  her  foolishness  is  such  that  she 
would  follow  you  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  —  poor 
girl !  she  little  knows  what  a  pale,  wretched,  sapless 
thing  you  have  in  your  breast  for  a  heart." 

But  Zoroaster  gazed  calmly  at  the  queen  in  quiet 
scorn  at  her  scoffing. 


262  ZOROASTER. 

"  Think  you  that  the  sun  is  obscured,  because  you 
can  draw  yonder  curtain  before  your  window  and 
keep  out  his  rays?  "  he  asked.  "  Think  you  that  the 
children  of  light  feel  pain  because  the  children  of 
darkness  say  in  their  ignorance  that  there  is  no 
light?" 

"  You  speak  in  parables  —  having  nothing  plain  to 
say,"  returned  the  queen,  thrusting  a  golden  pin 
through  her  hair  at  the  back  and  through  the  folds 
of  her  linen  tiara.  But  she  felt  Zoroaster's  eyes  upon 
her,  and  looking  up,  she  was  fascinated  by  the  strange 
light  in  them.  She  strove  to  look  away  from  him, 
but  could  not.  Suddenly  her  heart  sank  within  her. 
She  had  heard  of  Indian  charmers  and  of  Chaldean 
necromancers  and  wise  men,  who  could  perform 
wonders  and  slay  their  enemies  with  a  glance.  She 
struggled  to  take  her  eyes  from  his,  but  it  was  of  no 
use.  The  subtle  power  of  the  universal  agent  had 
got  hold  upon  her,  and  she  was  riveted  to  the  spot  so 
long  as  he  kept  his  eyes  upon  her.  He  spoke  again, 
and  his  voice  seemed  to  come  to  her  with  a  deafening 
metallic  force,  as  though  it  vibrated  to  her  very  brain. 

"  You  may  scoff  at  me  ;  shield  yourself  from  me,  if 
you  can,"  said  Zoroaster.  "  Lift  one  hand,  if  you  are 
able  —  make  one  step  from  me,  if  you  have  the 
strength.  You  cannot;  you  are  altogether  in  my 
power.  If  I  would,  I  could  kill  you  as  you  stand, 
and  there  would  be  no  mark  of  violence  upon  you, 
that  a  man  should  be  able  to  say  you  were  slain. 
You  boast  of  your  strength  and  power.  See,  you 
follow  the  motion  of  my  hand,  as  a  dog  would.  See, 
you  kneel  before  me,  and  prostrate  yourself  in  the 


ZOROASTER.  263 

dust  at  my  feet,  at  my  bidding.  Lie  there,  and  think 
well  whether  you  are  able  to  scoff  any  more.  You 
kneeled  to  the  king  of  your  own  will ;  you  kneel  to 
me  at  mine,  and  though  you  had  the  strength  of  a 
hundred  men,  you  must  kneel  there  till  I  bid  you 
rise." 

The  queen  was  wholly  under  the  influence  of  the 
terrible  power  Zoroaster  possessed.  She  was  no  more 
able  to  resist  his  will  than  a  drowning  man  can  resist 
the  swift  torrent  that  bears  him  down  to  his  death. 
She  lay  at  the  priest's  feet,  helpless  and  nerveless. 
He  gazed  at  her  for  a  moment  as  she  crouched  before 
him. 

"  Rise,"  he  said,  "  go  your  way,  and  remember  me." 

Relieved  from  the  force  of  the  subtle  influence  he 
projected,  Atossa  sprang  to  her  feet  and  staggered 
back  a  few  paces,  till  she  fell  upon  the  couch. 

"  What  manner  of  man  art  thou  ?  "  she  said,  staring 
wildly  before  her,  as  though  recovering  from  some 
heavy  blow  that  had  stunned  her. 

But  she  saw  Zoroaster's  white  robes  disappear 
through  the  door,  even  while  the  words  were  on  her 
lips,  and  she  sank  back  in  stupefaction  upon  the 
cushions  of  the  couch. 

Meanwhile  the  trumpets  sounded  in  the  courts  of 
the  palace  and  the  guards  were  marshalled  out  at  the 
king's  command.  Messengers  mounted  and  rode 
furiously  up  the  valley  to  the  fortress,  to  warn  the 
troops  there  to  make  ready  for  the  march  ;  and  before 
the  sun  reached  the  meridian,  Darius  was  on  horse- 
back, in  his  armour,  at  the  foot  of  the  great  staircase. 
The  blazing  noonday  light  shone  upon  his  polished 


264  ZOROASTER. 

helmet  and  on  the  golden  wings  that  stood  out  on 
either  side  of  it,  and  the  hot  rays  were  sent  flashing 
back  from  his  gilded  harness,  and  from  the  broad 
scales  of  his  horse's  armour. 

The  slaves  of  the  palace  stood  in  long  ranks  before 
the  columns  of  the  portico  and  upon  the  broad  stairs 
on  each  side,  and  Zoroaster  stood  on  the  lowest  step, 
attended  by  a  score  of  his  priests,  to  receive  the  king's 
last  instructions. 

"  I  go  forth,  and  in  two  months  I  will  return  in 
triumph,"  said  Darius.  ''  Meanwhile  keep  thou  the 
government  in  thy  hand,  and  let  not  the  laws  be 
relaxed  because  the  king  is  not  here.  Let  the  sacri- 
fice be  performed  daily  in  the  temple,  and  let  all 
things  proceed  as  though  I  myself  were  present.  I 
will  not  that  petty  strifes  arise  because  I  am  away. 
There  shall  be  peace  —  peace — peace  for  ever  through- 
out my  kingdom,  though  I  shed  much  blood  to  obtain 
it.  And  all  the  people  who  are  evildoers  and  makers 
of  strife  and  sedition  shall  tremble  at  the  name  of 
Darius,  the  king  of  kings,  and  of  Zoroaster,  the  high 
priest  of  the  All-Wise.  In  peace  I  leave  you,  to  cause 
peace  whither  I  go ;  and  in  peace  I  will  come  again 
to  you.  Farewell,  Zoroaster,  truest  friend  and  wisest 
counsellor ;  in  thy  keeping  I  leave  all  things.  Take 
thou  the  signet  and  bear  it  wisely  till  I  come." 

Zoroaster  received  the  royal  ring  and  bowed  a  low 
obeisance.  Then  Darius  pressed  his  knees  to  his 
horse's  sides  and  the  noble  steed  sprang  forward  upon 
the  straight,  broad  road,  like  an  arrow  from  a  bow. 
The  mounted  guards  grasped  their  spears  and  gath- 
ered their  bridles  in  their  hands  and  followed  swiftly, 


ZOROASTER.  266 

four  and  four,  shoulder  to  shoulder,  and  knee  to  knee, 
their  bronze  cuirasses  and  polished  helmets  blazing 
in  the  noonday  sun  and  clashing  as  they  galloped  on ; 
and  in  a  moment  there  was  nothing  seen  of  the  royal 
guard  but  a  tossing  wave  of  light  far  up  the  valley ; 
and  the  white  dust,  that  had  risen  as  they  plunged 
forward,  settled  slowly  in  the  still,  hot  air  upon  the 
roses  and  shrubs  that  hung  over  the  enclosure  of  the 
garden  at  the  foot  of  the  broad  staircase. 

Zoroaster  gazed  for  a  moment  on  the  track  of  the 
swift  warriors ;  then  went  up  the  steps,  followed  by 
his  priests,  and  entered  the  palace. 

Atossa  and  Nehushta  had  watched  the  departure  of 
the  king  from  their  upper  windows,  at  the  opposite 
ends  of  the  building,  from  behind  the  gilded  lattices. 
Atossa  had  recovered  somewhat  from  the  astonish- 
ment and  fear  that  had  taken  possession  of  her  when 
she  had  found  herself  under  Zoroaster's  strange 
influence,  and  as  she  saw  Darius  ride  away,  while 
Zoroaster  remained  standing  upon  the  steps,  her 
courage  rose.  She  resolved  that  nothing  should 
induce  her  again  to  expose  herself  to  the  chief 
priest's  unearthly  power,  and  she  laughed  to  herself 
as  she  thought  that  she  might  yet  destroy  him,  and 
free  herself  from  him  for  ever.  She  wondered  how 
she  could  ever  have  given  a  thought  of  love  to  such 
a  man,  and  she  summoned  her  black  slave,  and  sent 
him  upon  his  last  errand,  by  which  he  was  to  obtain 
his  freedom. 

But  Nehushta  gazed  sadly  after  the  galloping  guards, 
and  her  eye  strove  to  distinguish  the  king's  crest 
before  the  others,  till  all  was  mingled  in  the  distance, 


266  ZOROASTER. 

in  an  indiscriminate  reflection  of  moving  light,  and 
then  lost  to  view  altogether  in  the  rising  dust.  Whethei 
she  loved  him  truly,  or  loved  him  not,  he  had  been 
true  and  kind  to  her,  and  had  rested  his  dark  head 
upon  her  shoulder  that  very  morning  before  he  went, 
and  had  told  her  that,  of  all  living  women,  he  loved 
her  best.  But  she  had  felt  a  quick  sting  of  pain  in 
her  heart,  because  she  knew  that  she  would  give  her 
life  to  lie  for  one  short  hour  on  Zoroaster's  breast  and 
sob  out  all  her  sorrow  and  die. 


ZOROASTEB.  267 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Four  days  after  the  king's  departure,  Nehushta  was 
wandering  in  the  gardens  as  the  sun  was  going  down, 
according  to  her  daily  custom.  There  was  a  place 
she  loved  well  —  a  spot  where  the  path  widened  to  a 
circle,  round  which  the  roses  grew,  thick  and  fragrant 
with  the  breath  of  the  coming  summer,  and  soft  green 
shrubs  and  climbing  things  that  twisted  their  tender 
arms  about  the  myrtle  trees.  The  hedge  was  so  high 
that  it  cut  off  all  view  of  the  gardens  beyond,  and 
only  the  black  north-western  hills  could  just  be  seen 
above  the  mass  of  shrubbery ;  beyond  the  mountains 
and  all  over  the  sky,  the  glow  of  the  setting  sun 
spread  like  a  rosy  veil ;  and  the  light  tinged  the  crests 
of  the  dark  hills  and  turned  the  myrtle  leaves  to  a 
strange  colour,  and  gilded  the  highest  roses  to  a  deep 
red  gold. 

The  birds  were  all  singing  their  evening  song  in 
loud,  happy  chorus,  as  only  Eastern  birds  can  sing ; 
the  air  was  warm  and  still,  and  the  tiny  gnats  chased 
each  other  with  lightning  quickness  in  hazy  swarms 
overhead,  in  the  reflected  glow. 

Nehushta  loved  the  little  open  space,  for  it  was 
there  that,  a  year  ago,  she  had  sent  for  Zoroaster  to 
come  to  her  that  she  might  tell  him  she  knew  the  truth 
at  last.  She  stood  still  and  listened  to  the  singing  of 
the  birds,  gazing  upwards  at  the  glowing  sky,  where 


268  ZOROASTER. 

the  red  was  fast  turning  to  purple ;  she  breathed  in 
the  warm  air  and  sighed  softly ;  wishing,  as  she  wished 
every  night,  that  the  sunset  might  fade  to  darkness, 
and  there  might  be  no  morning  for  her  any  more. 

She  had  lived  almost  entirely  alone  since  Darius 
had  gone  to  Shushan ;  she  avoided  Atossa,  and  she 
made  no  effort  to  see  Zoroaster,  who  was  entirely  ab- 
sorbed by  the  management  of  the  affairs  of  the  state. 
In  the  king's  absence  there  were  no  banquets,  as 
there  used  to  be  when  he  was  in  the  palace,  and  the 
two  queens  were  free  to  lead  whatever  life  seemed 
best  to  them,  independently  of  each  other  and  of^  the 
courtiers.  Atossa  had  chosen  to  shut  herself  up  in 
the  seclusion  of  her  own  apartments,  and  Nehushta 
rarely  left  her  own  part  of  the  palace  until  the  even- 
ing. But  when  the  sun  was  low,  she  loved  to  linger 
among  the  roses  in  the  garden,  till  the  bright  shield 
of  the  moon  was  high  in  the  east,  or  till  the  faint 
stars  burned  in  their  full  splendour,  and  the  nightin- 
gales began  to  call  and  trill  their  melancholy  song 
from  end  to  end  of  the  sweet  valley. 

So  she  stood  on  this  evening,  looking  up  into  the 
sky,  and  her  slaves  waited  her  pleasure  at  a  little 
distance.  But  while  she  gazed,  she  heard  quick  steps 
along  the  walk,  and  the  slave-AVomen  sprang  aside  to 
let  some  one  pass.  Nehushta  turned  and  found  her- 
self face  to  face  with  Atossa,  who  stood  before  her, 
wrapped  in  a  dark  mantle,  a  white  veil  of  Indian 
gauze  wound  about  her  head,  and  half-concealing  her 
face.  It  was  a  year  since  they  had  met  in  private, 
and  Nehushta  drew  herself  suddenly  to  her  height, 
and  the  old  look  of  scorn  came  over  her  dark  fea- 


ZOROASTER.  269 

tures.  She  would  have  asked  haughtily  what  brought 
Atossa  there,  but  the  fair  queen  was  first  in  her 
speech.  There  was  hardly  even  the  affectation  of 
friendliness  in  her  tones,  as  she  stood  there  alone  and 
unattended,  facing  her  enemy. 

"  I  came  to  ask  if  you  wished  to  go  with  me,"  said 
Atossa. 

"  Where  ?     Why  should  I  go  with  you  ?  " 

"  I  am  weary  of  the  palace.  I  think  I  will  go  to 
Shushan  to  be  nearer  the  king.  To-night  I  will  rest 
at  the  fortress." 

Nehushta  stared  coldly  at  the  fair  woman,  muf&ed 
in  her  cloak  and  veil. 

"  What  is  it  to  me  whether  you  go  to  the  ends  of 
the  earth,  or  whether  you  remain  here  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  wished  to  know  whether  you  desired  to  accom- 
pany me,  else  I  should  not  have  asked  you  the  ques- 
tion. I  feared  that  you  might  be  lonely  here  in  Stak- 
har  —  will  you  not  come  ?  " 

"  Again  I  say,  why  do  you  ask  me  ?  What  have  I 
to  do  with  you?"  returned  Nehushta,  drawing  her 
mantle  about  her  as  though  to  leave  Atossa. 

"  If  the  king  were  here,  he  would  bid  you  go,"  said 
Atossa,  looking  intently  upon  her  enemy. 

"  It  is  for  me  to  j  udge  what  the  king  would  wish 
me  to  do  —  not  for  you.  Leave  me  in  peace.  Go 
your  way  if  you  will  —  it  is  nothing  to  me." 

"You  will  not  come?"  Atossa's  voice  softened 
and  she  smiled  serenely.  Nehushta  turned  fiercely 
upon  her. 

"  No  !     If  you  are  going  —  go  !     I  want  you  not !  " 

"You  are  glad  I  am  going,  are  you  not?"  asked 
Atossa,  gently. 


2T0  ZOROASTER. 

"  I  am  glad  —  with  a  gladness  only  you  can  know. 
I  would  you  were  already  gone  1 " 

"You  rejoice  that  I  leave  you  alone  with  your 
lover.     It  is  very  natural " 

"  My  lover !  "  cried  Nehushta,  her  wrath  rising  and 
blazing  in  her  eyes. 

"Ay,  your  lover!  the  thin,  white-haired  priest, 
that  once  was  Zoroaster  —  your  old  lover  — your 
poor  old  lover !  " 

Nehushta  steadied  herself  for  a  moment.  She  felt 
as  though  she  must  tear  this  woman  in  pieces.  But 
she  controlled  her  anger  by  a  great  effort,  though  she 
was  nearly  choking  as  she  drew  herself  up  and 
answered. 

"  I  would  that  the  powers  of  evil,  of  whom  you  are, 
might  strangle  the  thrice-accursed  lie  in  your  false 
throat!"  she  said,  in  low  fierce  tones,  and  turned 
away. 

Still  Atossa  stood  there,  smiling  as  ever.  Nehushta 
looked  back  as  she  reached  the  opposite  end  of  the 
little  plot. 

"Are  you  not  yet  gone?  Shall  I  bid  my  slaves 
take  you  by  the  throat  and  force  you  from  me?" 
But,  as  she  spoke,  she  looked  beyond  Atossa,  and 
saw  that  a  body  of  dark  men  and  women  stood  in  the 
path.     Atossa  had  not  come  unprotected. 

"  I  see  you  are  the  same  foolish  woman  you  ever 
were,"  answered  the  older  queen.  Just  then,  a 
strange  sound  echoed  far  off  among  the  hills  above, 
strange  and  far  as  the  scream  of  a  distant  vulture 
calling  its  mate  to  the  carrion  feast  —  an  unearthly 
cry  that  rang  high  in  the  air  from  side  to  side  of  the 


ZOROASTER.  271 

valley,  and  struck  the  dark  crags  and  doubled  in  the 
echo,  and  died  away  in  short,  faint  pulsations  of 
sound  upon  the  startled  air. 

Nehushta  started  slightly.  It  might  have  been  the 
cry  of  a  wolf,  or  of  some  wild  beast  prowling  upon 
the  heights,  but  she  had  never  heard  such  a  sound 
before.  But  Atossa  showed  no  surprise,  and  her  smile 
returned  to  her  lips  more  sweetly  than  ever  —  those 
lips  that  had  kissed  three  kings,  and  that  had  never 
spoken  truly  a  kind  or  a  merciful  word  to  living  man, 
or  child,  or  woman. 

"  Farewell,  Nehushta,"  she  said,  "  if  you  will  not 
come,  I  will  leave  you  to  yourself  —  and  to  your  lover. 
I  daresay  he  can  protect  you  from  harm.  Heard  you 
that  sound  ?  It  is  the  cry  of  your  fate.  Farewell, 
foolish  girl,  and  may  every  undreamed-of  quality  of 
evil  attend  you  to  your  dying  day " 

"  Go  ! "  cried  Nehushta,  turning  and  pointing  to 
the  path  with  a  gesture  of  terrible  anger.  Atossa 
moved  back  a  little. 

"  It  is  no  wonder  I  linger  awhile  —  I  thought  you 
were  past  suffering.  If  I  had  time,  I  might  yet 
find  some  way  of  tormenting  you  —  you  are  very 
foolish " 

Nehushta  walked  rapidly  forward  upon  her,  as 
thou2fh  to  do  her  some  violence  with  her  own  hands. 
But  Atossa,  as  she  gave  way  before  the  angry  Hebrew 
woman,  drew  from  beneath  her  mantle  the  Indian 
knife  she  had  once  taken  from  her.  Nehushta  stopped 
short,  as  she  saw  the  bright  blade  thrust  out  against 
her  bosom.  But  Atossa  held  it  up  one  moment,  and 
then  threw  it  down  upon  the  grass  at  her  feet. 


272  ZOROASTER. 

"  Take  it ! "  she  cried,  and  in  her  voice,  that  had 
been  so  sweet  and  gentle  a  moment  before,  there  sud- 
denly rang  out  a  strange  defiance  and  a  bitter  wrath. 
"  Take  what  is  yours  —  I  loathe  it,  for  it  smells  of 
you  —  and  you,  and  all  that  is  yours,  I  loathe  and 
hate  and  scorn !  " 

She  turned  with  a  quick  movement  and  disappeared 
amongst  her  slaves,  who  closed  in  their  ranks  behind 
her,  and  followed  her  rapidly  down  the  path,  Ne- 
hushta  remained  standing  upon  the  grass,  peering 
after  her  retreating  enemy  through  the  gloom;  for 
the  glow  had  faded  from  the  western  sk}^  while  they 
had  been  speaking,  and  it  was  now  dusk. 

Suddenly,  as  she  stood,  almost  transfixed  with  the 
horror  of  her  fearful  anger,  that  strange  cry  rang 
again  through  the  lofty  crags  and  crests  of  the  moun- 
tains, and  echoed  and  died  aw^ay. 

Nehushta's  slave- women,  who  had  hung  back  in 
fear  and  trembling  during  the  altercation  between 
the  two  queens,  came  forward  and  gathered  about 
her. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  asked  the  queen  in  a  low  voice,  for 
her  own  heart  beat  with  the  anticipation  of  a  sudden 
danger.  "It  is  the  cry  of  your  fate,"  Atossa  had 
said  —  verily  it  sounded  like  the  scream  of  a  coming 
death. 

"  It  is  the  Druksh  of  the  mountains  !  "  said  one. 

"  It  is  the  howling  of  wolves,"  said  another,  a  Me- 
dian woman  from  the  Zagros  mountains. 

"  The  war-cry  of  the  children  of  Anak  is  like  that," 
said  a  little  Syrian  maid,  and  her  teeth  chattered  with 
fear. 


ZOROASTER.  273 

As  they  listened,  crouching  and  pressing  about  their 
royal  mistress  in  their  terror,  they  heard  below  in  the 
road,  the  sound  of  horses  and  men  moving  quickly 
past  the  foot  of  the  gardens.  It  was  Atossa  and  her 
train,  hurrying  along  the  highway  in  the  direction  of 
the  fortress. 

Nehushta  suddenly  pushed  the  slaves  aside,  and 
fled  down  the  path  towards  the  palace,  and  the  dark 
women  hurried  after.  One  of  them  stooped  and 
picked  up  the  Indian  knife  and  hid  it  in  her  bosom 
as  she  ran. 

The  whole  truth  had  flashed  across  Nehushta's  mind 
in  an  instant.  Some  armed  force  was  collecting  upon 
the  hills  to  descend  in  a  body  upon  the  palace,  to 
accomplish  her  destruction.  Atossa  had  fled  to  a 
place  of  safety,  after  enjoying  the  pleasure  of  tor- 
menting her  doomed  enemy  to  the  last  moment,  well 
knowing  that  no  power  would  induce  Nehushta  to 
accompany  her.  But  one  thought  filled  Nehushta's 
mind  in  her  instantaneous  comprehension  of  the 
truth ;  she  must  find  Zoroaster,  and  warn  him  of  the 
danger.  They  would  have  time  to  fly  together,  yet. 
Atossa  must  have  known  how  to  time  her  flight,  since 
the  plot  v/as  hers,  and  she  had  not  yet  been  many 
minutes  upon  the  road. 

Through  the  garden  she  ran,  and  up  the  broad 
steps  to  the  portico.  Slaves  were  moving  about 
under  the  colonnade,  leisurely  lighting  the  great 
torches  that  burned  there  all  night.  They  had  not 
heard  the  strange  cries  from  the  hills;  or,  hearing 
only  a  faint  echo,  had  paid  no  attention  to  the 
sound. 

T 


274  ZOROASTER. 

Nehushta  paused,  breathless  with  running.  As 
she  realised  the  quiet  that  reigned  in  the  palace, 
where  the  slaves  went  about  their  duties  as  though 
nothing  had  occurred,  or  were  likely  to  occur,  it 
seemed  to  her  as  though  she  must  have  been  dream- 
ing. It  was  impossible  that  if  there  were  any  real 
danger,  it  should  not  have  become  known  at  least  to 
some  one  of  the  hundreds  of  slaves  who  thronged  the 
outer  halls  and  corridors.  Moreover  there  were 
numerous  scribes  and  officers  connected  with  the 
government;  some  few  nobles  whom  Darius  had  left 
behind  when  he  went  to  Shushan ;  there  were  their 
wives  and  families  residing  in  various  parts  of  the 
palace  and  in  the  buildings  below  it,  and  there  was  a 
strong  detachment  of  Persian  guards.  If  there  were 
danger,  some  one  must  have  known  it. 

She  did  not  know  that  at  that  moment  the  inhabi- 
tants of  the  lower  palace  were  already  alarmed,  while 
some  were  flying,  leaving  everything  behind,  in  their 
haste  to  reach  the  fortress  higher  up  the  valley. 
Everything  seemed  quiet  where  she  was,  and  she  de- 
termined to  go  alone  in  search  of  Zoroaster,  without 
raising  any  alarm.  Just  as  she  entered  the  doorway 
of  the  great  hall,  she  heard  the  cry  again  echoing 
behind  her  through  the  valley.  It  was  as  much  as 
she  could  do  to  control  the  terror  that  again  took 
hold  of  her  at  the  dreaded  sound,  as  she  passed  the 
files  of  bowing  slaves,  and  went  in  between  the  two 
tall  spearmen  who  guarded  the  inner  entrance,  and 
grounded  their  spears  with  military  precision  as  she 
went  by. 

She  had  one  slave  whom  she  trusted  more  than  the 


ZOROASTER.  275 

rest.     It  was  the  little  Syrian  maid,  who  was  half  a 
Hebrew. 

"  Go,"  she  said  quickly,  in  her  own  tongue.  "  Go 
in  one  direction  and  1  will  go  in  another,  and  search 
out  Zoroaster,  the  high  priest,  and  bring  him  to  my 
chamber.  I  also  will  search,  but  if  I  find  him  not,  I 
will  wait  for  thee  there." 

The  dark  girl  turned  and  ran  through  the  halls, 
swift  as  a  startled  fawn,  to  fulfil  her  errand,  and 
Nehushta  went  another  way  upon  her  search.  She 
was  ashamed  to  ask  for  Zoroaster.  The  words  of  her 
enemy  were  still  ringing  in  her  ears  —  "  alone  with 
your  lover ;  "  it  might  be  the  common  talk  of  the 
court  for  all  she  knew.  She  went  silently  on  her 
way.  She  knew  where  Zoroaster  dwelt.  The  curtain 
of  his  simple  chamber  was  thrown  aside  and  a  faint 
light  burned  in  the  room.  It  was  empty ;  a  scroll 
lay  open  upon  the  floor  beside  a  purple  cushion,  as 
he  had  left  it,  and  his  long  white  mantle  lay  tossed 
upon  the  couch  which  served  him  for  a  bed. 

She  gazed  lovingly  for  one  moment  into  the  open 
chamber,  and  then  went  on  through  the  broad  corri- 
dor, dimly  lighted  everywhere  with  small  oil  lamps. 
She  looked  into  the  council  chamber  and  it  was 
deserted.  The  long  rows  of  double  seats  were  empty, 
and  gleamed  faintly  in  the  light.  High  upon  the 
dais  at  the  end,  a  lamp  burned  above  the  carved  chair 
of  ivory  and  gold,  whereon  the  king  sat  when  the 
council  was  assembled.  There  was  no  one  there. 
Farther  on,  the  low  entrance  to  the  treasury  was 
guarded  by  four  spearmen,  whose  arms  clanged  upon 
the  floor  as  the  queen  passed.     But  she  saw  that  the 


276  ZOKOASTER. 

massive  bolts  and  the  huge  square  locks  upon  them 
were  in  their  places.  There  was  no  one  within.  In 
the  colomiade  beyond,  a  few  nobles  stood  talking 
carelessly  together,  waiting  for  their  evening  meal  to 
be  served  them  in  a  brightly  illuminated  hall,  of 
which  the  doors  stood  wide  open  to  admit  the  cool 
air  of  the  coming  night.  The  magnificently-arrayed 
courtiers  made  a  low  obeisance  and  then  stood  in 
astonishment  as  the  queen  went  by.  She  held  up  her 
head  and  nodded  to  them,  trying  to  look  as  though 
nothing  disturbed  her. 

On  and  on  she  went  through  the  whole  wing,  till 
she  came  to  her  own  apartment.  Not  so  much  as 
one  white-robed  priest  had  she  seen  upon  all  her  long 
search.  Zoroaster  was  certainly  not  in  the  portion  of 
the  palace  through  which  she  had  come.  Entering 
her  own  chambers,  she  looked  round  for  the  little 
Syrian  maid,  but  she  had  not  returned. 

Unable  to  bear  the  suspense  any  longer,  she  hastily 
despatched  a  second  slave  in  search  of  the  chief  priest 
—  a  Median  woman,  who  had  been  with  her  in 
Ecbatana. 

It  seemed  as  though  the  minutes  were  lengthened 
to  hours.  Nehushta  sat  with  her  hands  pressed  to 
her  temples,  that  throbbed  as  though  the  fever  would 
burst  her  brain,  and  the  black  fan-girl  plied  the  palm- 
leaf  with  all  her  might,  thinking  that  her  mistress 
suffered  from  the  heat.  The  other  women  she  dis- 
missed ;  and  she  sat  waiting  beneath  the  soft  light  of 
the  perfumed  lamp,  the  very  figure  and  incarnation 
of  anxiety. 

Something  within   her   told  her  that   she  was  in 


ZOROASTER.  277 

great  and  imminent  danger,  and  the  calm  she  had 
seen  in  the  palace  could  not  allay  in  her  mind  the 
terror  of  that  unearthly  cry  she  had  heard  three  times 
from  the  hills.  As  she  thought  of  it,  she  shuddered, 
and  the  icy  fear  seemed  to  run  through  all  her  limbs, 
chilling  the  marrow  in  her  bones,  and  freezing  her 
blood  suddenly  in  its  mad  course. 

''  Left  alone  with  your  lover  "  —  "  it  is  the  cry  of 
your  fate  "  —  Atossa's  words  kept  ringing  in  her  ears 
like  a  knell — the  knell  of  a  shameful  death ;  and  as 
she  went  over  the  bitter  taunts  of  her  enemy,  her 
chilled  pulses  beat  again  more  feverishly  than  before. 
She  could  not  bear  to  sit  still,  but  rose  and  paced  the 
room  in  intense  agitation.  Would  they  never  come 
back,  those  dallying  slave-women  ? 

The  fan-girl  tried  to  follow  her  mistress,  and  her 
small  red  eyes  watched  cautiously  every  one  of  Ne- 
hushta's  movements.  But  the  queen  waved  her  off 
and  the  slave  went  and  stood  beside  the  chair  where 
she  had  sat,  her  fan  hanging  idly  in  her  hand.  At 
that  moment,  the  Median  woman  entered  the  cham- 
ber. 

"Where  is  he?"  asked  Nehushta,  turning  suddenly 
upon  her. 

The  woman  made  a  low  obeisance  and  answered 
in  trembling  tones  : 

"  They  say  that  the  high  priest  left  the  palace  two 
hours  ago,  with  the  queen  Atossa.     They  say " 

"  Thou  liest !  "  cried  Nehushta  vehemently,  and  her 
face  turned  white,  as  she  stamped  her  foot  upon  the 
black  marble  pavement.  The  Avoman  sprang  back 
with  a  cry  of  terror,  and  ran  towards  the  door.     She 


278  ZOROASTER. 

had  never  seen  her  mistress  so  angry.  But  Nehushta 
called  her  back. 

"Come  hither  —  what  else  do  they  say?"  she 
asked,  controlling  herself  as  best  she  could. 

"  They  say  that  the  wild  riders  of  the  eastern  desert 
are  descending  from  the  hills,"  answered  the  slave 
hurriedly  and  almost  under  her  breath.  "  Every  one 
is  flying  —  everything  is  in  confusion  —  I  hear  them 
even  now,  hurrying  to  and  fro  in  the  courts,  the 
soldiers " 

But,  even  as  she  spoke,  an  echo  of  distant  voices 
and  discordant  cries  came  through  the  curtains  of  the 
door  from  without,  the  rapid,  uneven  tread  of  people 
running  hither  and  thither  in  confusion,  the  loud 
voices  of  startled  men  and  the  screams  of  frightened 
women  —  all  blending  together  in  a  wild  roar  that 
grew  every  moment  louder. 

Just  then,  the  little  Syrian  maid  came  running  in, 
almost  tearing  the  curtains  from  their  brazen  rods  as 
she  thrust  the  hangings  aside.  She  came  and  fell 
breathless  at  Nehushta's  feet  and  clasped  her  knees. 

"  Fly,  fly,  beloved  mistress,"  she  cried,  "  the  devils 
of  the  mountains  are  upon  us  —  they  cover  the  hills 
—  they  are  closing  every  entrance  —  the  people  in 
the  lower  palace  are  all  slain " 

"Where  is  Zoroaster?"  In  the  moment  of  su- 
preme danger,  Nehushta  grew  calm,  and  her  senses 
were  restored  to  her  again. 

"  He  is  in  the  temple  with  the  priests  —  by  this 
time  he  is  surely  slain  —  he  could  know  of  nothing 
that  is  going  on — fly,  fly!"  cried  the  poor  Syrian 
girl  in  an  agony  of  terror. 


ZOKOASTER.  279 

Nehushta  laid  her  hand  Idndly  upon  the  head  of 
the  little  maid,  and  turning  in  the  pride  of  her  courage, 
now  that  she  knew  the  worst,  she  spoke  calmly  to  the 
other  slaves  who  thronged  in  from  the  outer  hall,  some 
breathless  with  fear,  others  screaming  in  an  agony  of 
acute  dread. 

"  On  which  side  are  they  coming?"  she  asked. 

"  From  the  hills,  from  the  hills  they  are  descending 
in  thousands,"  cried  half  a  dozen  of  the  frightened 
women  at  once,  the  rest  huddled  together  like  sheep, 
moaning  in  their  fear. 

"  Go  you  all  to  the  farther  window,"  cried  Nehushta, 
in  commanding  tones.  "  Leap  down  upon  the  balcony 
—  it  is  scarce  a  man's  height  —  follow  it  to  the  end 
and  past  the  corner  where  it  joins  the  main  wall  of 
the  garden.  Run  along  upon  the  wall  till  you  find  a 
place  where  you  can  descend.  Through  the  gardens 
you  can  easily  reach  the  road  by  the  northern  gate. 
Fly  and  save  yourselves  in  the  darkness.  You  will 
reach  the  fortress  before  dawn  if  you  hasten.  You 
will  hasten,"  she  added  with  something  of  disdain  in 
her  voice,  for  before  she  had  half  uttered  her  direc- 
tions, the  last  of  the  slave-women,  mad  with  terror, 
disappeared  through  the  open  window,  and  she  could 
hear  them  drop,  one  after  the  other,  in  quick  suc- 
cession upon  the  marble  balcony  below.  She  was 
alone. 

But,  looking  down,  she  saw  at  her  feet  the  little 
Syrian  maid,  looking  with  imploring  eyes  to  her  face. 

''  Why  do  you  not  go  with  the  rest  ? "  asked 
Nehushta,  stooping  down  and  laying  one  hand  upon 
the  girl's  shoulder. 


280  ZOROASTER. 

"  I  have  eaten  tliy  bread  —  shall  I  leave  thee  in  the 
hour  of  death  ?  "  asked  the  little  slave,  humbly. 

"  Go,  child,"  replied  Nehushta,  very  kindly.  "  I 
have  seen  thy  devotion  and  truth  —  thou  must  not 
perish." 

But  the  Syrian  leaped  to  her  feet,  and  there  was 
pride  in  her  small  face,  as  she  answered : 

"  I  am  a  bondwoman,  but  I  am  a  daughter  of  Israel, 
even  as  thou  art.  Though  all  the  others  leave  thee, 
I  will  not.     It  may  be  I  can  help  thee." 

"  Thou  art  a  brave  child,"  said  Nehushta ;  and 
she  drew  the  girl  to  her  and  pressed  her  kindl}^  "  I 
must  go  to  Zoroaster  —  stay  thou  here,  hide  thyself 
among  the  curtains  —  escape  by  the  window,  if  any 
come  to  harm  thee."  She  turned  and  went  rapidly 
out  between  the  curtains,  as  calm  and  as  pale  as 
death. 

The  din  in  the  palace  had  partially  subsided,  and 
new  and  strange  cries  re-echoed  through  the  vast  halls 
and  corridors.  An  occasional  wild  scream  —  a  momen- 
tary distant  crash  as  of  a  door  breaking  down  and 
thundering  upon  the  marble  pavement;  and  then 
again,  the  long,  strange  cries,  mingled  with  a  dull, 
low  sound  as  of  a  great  moaning  —  all  came  up  to- 
gether, and  seemed  to  meet  Nehushta  as  she  lifted 
the  curtains  and  went  out. 

But  the  little  Syrian  maid  grasped  the  Indian  knife 
in  her  girdle,  and  stole  stealthily  upon  her  mistress's 
steps. 


ZOROASTER.  281 


CHAPTER   XX. 

Nehushta  glided  like  a  ghost  along  the  corridors 
and  dimly-lighted  halls.  As  yet,  the  confusion 
seemed  to  be  all  in  the  lower  story  of  the  palace, 
but  the  roaring  din  rose  louder  every  moment  — 
the  shrieks  of  wounded  women  with  the  moaning  of 
wounded  men,  the  clash  of  swords  and  arms,  and, 
occasionally,  a  quick,  loud  rattle,  as  half  a  dozen 
arrows  that  had  missed  their  mark  struck  the  wall 
together. 

Onward  she  flew,  not  pausing  to  listen,  lest  in  a 
moment  more  the  tide  of  fight  should  be  forced  up 
the  stairs  and  overtake  her.  She  shuddered  as  she 
passed  the  head  of  the  great  staircase  and  heard,  as 
though  but  a  few  steps  from  her,  a  wild  shriek  that 
died  suddenly  into  a  gurgling  death  hiss. 

She  passed  the  treasury,  whence  the  guards  had 
fled,  and  in  a  moment  more  she  was  above  the  stair- 
case that  led  down  to  the  temple  behind  the  palace. 
There  was  no  one  there  as  yet,  as  far  as  she  could  see 
in  the  starlight.  The  doors  were  shut,  and  the  mas- 
sive square  building  frowned  through  the  gloom, 
blacker  than  its  own  black  shadow. 

Nehushta  paused  as  she  reached  the  door,  and  lis- 
tened. Very  faintly  through  the  thick  walls  she 
could  hear  the  sound  of  the  evening  chant.  The 
priests  were  all  within  with  Zoroaster,  unconscious 


282  ZOROASTER. 

of  their  danger  and  of  all  that  was  going  on  in  the 
palace,  singing  the  hymns  of  the  sacrifice  before  the 
sacred  fire,  —  chanting,  as  it  were,  a  dirge  for  them- 
selves. Nehushta  tried  the  door.  The  great  bronze 
gates  were  locked  together,  and  though  she  pushed 
with  her  whole  strength,  they  would  not  move  a 
hair's  breadth. 

"  Press  the  nail  nearest  the  middle,"  said  a  small 
voice  behind  her.  Nehushta  started  and  looked 
round.  It  was  the  little  Syrian  slave,  who  had  fol- 
lowed her  out  of  the  palace,  and  stood  watching  her 
in  the  dark.  Nehushta  put  her  hand  upon  the  round 
head  of  the  nail  and  pressed,  as  the  slave  told  her  to 
do.  The  door  opened,  turning  slowly  and  noiselessly 
upon  its  hinges.  Both  women  entered;  the  Syrian 
girl  looked  cautiously  back  and  pushed  the  heavy 
bronze  back  to  its  place.  The  Egyptian  artisan  who 
had  made  the  lock,  had  told  one  of  the  queen's 
women  whom  he  loved  the  secret  by  wliich  it  was 
opened,  and  the  Syrian  had  heard  it  repeated  and 
remembered  it. 

Once  inside,  Nehushta  ran  quickly  through  the 
corridor  between  the  walls  and  rushing  into  the  inner 
temple,  found  herself  behind  the  screen  and  in  a 
moment  more  she  stood  before  all  the  priests  and 
before  Zoroaster  himself.  But  even  as  she  entered, 
the  Syrian  slave,  who  had  lingered  to  close  the  gates, 
heard  the  rushing  of  many  feet  outside,  and  the 
yelling  of  hoarse  voices,  mixed  with  the  clang  of 
arms. 

Solemnly  the  chant  rose  around  the  sacred  fire  that 
seemed  to  burn  by  unearthly  means  upon  the  black 


ZOROASTER.  283 

stone  altar.  Zoroaster  stood  before  it,  his  hands 
lifted  in  prayer,  and  his  waxen  face  and  snow-white 
beard  illuminated  by  the  dazzling  effulgence. 

The  seventy  priests,  in  even  rank,  stood  around 
the  walls,  their  hands  raised  in  like  manner  as  their 
chief  priest's ;  their  voices  going  up  in  a  rich  chorus, 
strong  and  tuneful,  in  the  grand  plain-chant.  But 
Nehushta  broke  upon  their  melody,  with  a  sudden 
cry,  as  she  rushed  before  them. 

"  Zoroaster  —  fly  —  there  is  yet  time.  The  enemy 
are  come  in  thousands  —  they  are  in  the  palace. 
There  is  barely  time  !  "  As  she  cried  to  him  and  to 
them  all,  she  rushed  forward  and  laid  one  hand  upon 
his  shoulder. 

But  the  high  priest  turned  calmly  upon  her,  his 
face  unmoved,  although  all  the  priests  ceased  their 
chanting  and  gathered  about  their  chief  in  sudden 
fear.  As  their  voices  ceased,  a  low  roar  was  heard 
from  without,  as  though  the  ocean  were  beating  at 
the  gates. 

Zoroaster  gently  took  Nehushta's  hand  from  his 
shoulder. 

"  Go  thou,  and  save  thyself,"  he  said  kindly.  "I 
will  not  go.  If  it  be  the  will  of  the  All- Wise  that  I 
perish,  I  will  perish  before  this  altar.  Go  thou 
quickly,  and  save  thyself  while  there  is  yet  time." 

But  Nehushta  took  his  hand  in  hers,  that  trembled 
with  the  great  emotion,  and  gazed  into  his  calm 
eyes  as  he  spoke  —  her  look  was  very  loving  and  very 
sad. 

"  Knowest  thou  not,  Zoroaster,  that  I  would  rather 
die  with  thee  than  live  with  any  other  ?     I  swear  to 


284  ZOROASTER. 

thee,  by  the  God  of  my  fathers,  I  will  not  leave  thee." 
Her  soft  voice  trembled  —  for  she  was  uttering  her 
own  sentence  of  death. 

"  There  is  no  more  time ! "  cried  the  voice  of  the 
little  Syrian  maid,  as  she  came  running  into  the 
temple.  "  There  is  no  more  time  !  Ye  are  all  dead 
men !     Behold,  they  are  breaking  down  the  doors  !  " 

As  she  spoke,  the  noise  of  some  heavy  mass  strik- 
ing against  the  bronze  gates  echoed  like  thunder 
through  the  temple,  and  at  each  blow  a  chorus  of 
hideous  yells  rose,  wild  and  long-drawn-out,  as 
though  the  fiends  of  hell  were  screaming  in  joy  over 
the  souls  of  the  lost. 

The  priests  drew  together,  trembling  with  fear, 
brave  and  devoted  though  they  were.  Some  of  them 
would  have  run  towards  the  door,  but  the  Syrian 
maid  stood  before  them. 

"  Ye  are  dead  men  and  there  is  no  salvation  —  ye 
must  die  like  men,"  said  the  little  maid,  quietly. 
"  Let  me  go  to  my  mistress."  And  she  pushed 
through  the  crowd  of  white-robed  men,  who  surged 
together  in  their  sudden  fear,  like  a  white-crested 
wave  heaved  up  from  the  deep  by  a  fierce  wind. 

Nehushta  still  held  Zoroaster's  hand  and  stared 
wildly  upon  the  helpless  priests.  Her  one  thought 
was  to  save  the  man  she  loved,  but  she  saw  well 
enough  that  it  was  too  late.  Nevertheless  she 
appealed  to  the  priests. 

"Can  none  of  you  save  him?"  she  cried. 

Foremost  in  the  little  crowd  was  a  stern,  dark 
man  —  the  same  who  had  been  the  high  priest  before 
Zoroaster   came,  the  same  who  had  first  hurled  de- 


ZOROASTER.  285 

fiance  at  the  intruder,  and  then  had  given  him  his 
whole  allegiance.     He  spoke  out  loudly; 

"  We  will  save  him  and  thee  if  we  are  able,"  he 
cried  in  brave  enthusiasm  for  his  chief.  "We  will 
take  you  betAveen  us  and  open  the  doors,  and  it  may 
be  that  we  can  fight  our  way  out  —  though  we  are 
all  slain,  he  may  be  saved."  He  would  have  laid 
hold  on  Zoroaster,  and  there  was  not  one  of  the 
priests  who  would  not  have  laid  down  his  life  in  the 
gallant  attempt.  But  Zoroaster  gently  put  him 
back. 

"Ye  cannot  save  me,  for  my  hour  is  come,"  he 
said,  and  a  radiance  of  unearthly  glory  stole  upon  his 
features,  so  that  he  seemed  transfigured  and  changed 
before  them  all.  "  The  foe  are  as  a  thousand  men 
against  one.  Here  we  must  die  like  men,  and  like 
priests  of  the  Lord  before  His  altar." 

The  thundering  at  the  doors  continued  to  echo 
through  the  whole  temple,  almost  drowning  every 
other  sound  as  it  came ;  and  the  yells  of  the  infuri- 
ated besiegers  rose  louder  and  louder  between. 

Zoroaster's  voice  rang  out  clear  and  strong  and  the 
band  of  priests  gathered  more  and  more  closely  about 
him.  Nehushta  still  held  his  hand  tightly  between 
her  own,  and,  pale  as  death,  she  looked  up  to  him  as 
he  spoke.  The  little  Syrian  girl  stood  beside  her 
mistress,  very  quite  and  grave. 

"  Hear  me,  ye  priests  of  the  Lord,"  said  Zoroaster. 
"  We  are  doomed  men  and  must  surely  die,  though 
we  know  not  by  whose  hand  we  perish.  Now,  there- 
fore, I  beseech  you  to  think  not  of  this  death  which 
we  must  suffer  in  our  mortal   bodies,  but   to   open 


286  ZOROASTER. 

your  eyes  to  the  things  which  are  not  mortal  and 
\yhich  perish  not  eternally.  For  man  is  but  a  frail 
and  changing  creature  as  regards  his  mortality,  seeing 
that  his  life  is  not  longer  than  the  lives  of  other 
created  things,  and  he  is  delicate  and  sickly  and 
exposed  to  manifold  dangers  from  his  birth.  But  the 
soul  of  man  dieth  not,  neither  is  there  any  taint  of 
death  in  it,  but  it  liveth  for  ever  and  is  made  glorious 
above  the  stars.  For  the  stars,  also,  shall  have  an 
end,  and  the  earth — even  as  our  bodies  must  end  here 
this  night ;  but  our  soul  shall  see  the  glory  of  God, 
the  All- Wise,  and  shall  live. 

"  The  sun  riseth  and  the  earth  is  made  glad,  and  it 
is  day ;  and  again  he  setteth  and  it  is  night,  and  the 
whole  earth  is  sorrowful.  But  though  our  sun  is  gone 
down  and  we  shall  see  him  rise  no  more,  yet  shall  we 
see  a  sun  which  setteth  not  for  ever,  and  of  whose 
gladness  there  is  no  end.  The  morning  cometh,  after 
which  there  shall  be  no  evening.  The  Lord  Ahura 
Mazda,  who  made  all  things,  made  also  these  our 
bodies,  and  put  us  in  them  to  live  and  move  and  have 
being  for  a  space  on  earth.  And  now  he  demands 
them  again ;  for  he  gave  them  and  they  are  his.  Let 
us  give  them  readily  as  a  sacrifice,  for  he  who  know- 
eth  all  things,  knoweth  also  why  it  is  meet  that  we 
should  die.  And  he  who  hath  created  all  things 
which  we  see  and  which  perish  quickly,  hath  created 
also  the  things  which  we  have  not  seen,  but  shall  see 
hereafter ;  —  and  the  time  is  at  hand  when  our  eyes 
shall  be  opened  to  the  world  which  endureth,  though 
they  be  closed  in  death  upon  the  things  which  perish. 
Raise  then  a  hymn  of  thanks  with  me  to  the  All- Wise 


ZOEOASTER.  287 

God,  who  is  pleased  to  take  us  from  time  into  eter- 
nity, from  darkness  into  light,  from  change  to  im- 
mortality, from  death  by  death  to  life  undying. 

'"'- Praise  we  the  All-Wise   God,  wJio  hath  made  and 

created  the  years  and  the  ages  ; 
Praise  him  who  in  the  heavens  hath  sown  and  hath 

scattered  the  seed  of  the  stars  ; 
Praise  him  who  moves  between  the  three  ages  that  are, 

and  that  have  been,  and  shall  be  ; 
Praise  him  who  rides  on  death,  in  whose  hand  are 

all  power  and  honour  and  glory  ; 
Praise  him  who  made  what  seemeth,  the  image  of 

living,  the  shadow  of  life  ; 
Praise  him  who  made  what  is,  and  hath  made   it 

eternal  for  ever  and  ever, 
Who  made  the  days  and  nights,  and  created  the  dark- 

ness  to  follow  the  light. 
Who  made  the  day  of  life,  that  should  rise  up  and 

lighten  the  shadow  of  death,^^ 

Zoroaster  raised  one  hand  to  heaven  as  he  chanted 
the  hymn,  and  all  the  priests  sang  with  him  in  calm 
and  holy  melody,  as  though  death  were  not  even  then 
with  them.  But  Nehushta  still  held  his  other  hand 
fast,  and  her  own  were  icy  cold. 

With  a  crash,  as  though  the  elements  of  the  earth 
were  dissolving  into  primeval  confusion,  the  great 
bronze  doors  gave  way,  and  fell  clanging  in  —  and  the 
yells  of  the  besiegers  came  to  the  ears  of  the  priests, 
as  though  the  cover  had  been  taken  from  the  caldron 
of  hell,  suffering  the  din  of  the  damned  and  their 
devils  to  burst  forth  in  demoniac  discord. 


2»»  ZOROASTER. 

In  an  instant  the  temple  was  filled  with  a  swarm  of 
hideous  men,  whose  eyes  were  red  with  the  lust  of 
blood  and  their  hands  with  slaughter.     Their  crooked  ^ 
swords  gleamed  aloft  as  they  pressed  forward  in  the  ^ 
rush,  and  their  yells  rent  the  very  roof. 

They  had  hoped  for  treasure,  —  they  saw  but  a 
handful  of  white-robed  unarmed  men,  standing  around 
one  taller  than  the  rest;  and  in  the  throng  they  saw 
two  women.  Their  rage  knew  no  bounds,  and  their 
screams  rose  more  piercing  than  ever,  as  they  sur- 
rounded the  doomed  band,  and  overwhelmed  them, 
and  dyed  their  misshapen  blades  in  the  crimson  blood 
that  flowed  so  red  and  strong  over  the  fair  white 
vestures. 

The  priests  struggled  like  brave  men  to  the  last. 
They  grasped  their  hideous  foes  by  arm  and  limb  and 
neck,  and  tossed  some  of  them  back  upon  their  fellows ; 
fighting  desperately  with  their  bare  hands  against  the 
armed  murderers.  But  the  foe  were  a  hundred  to  one, 
and  the  priests  fell  in  heaps  upon  each  other  while 
the  blood  flowed  out  between  the  feet  of  the  wild, 
surging  throng,  who  yelled  and  slew,  and  yelled  again, 
as  each  priest  tottered  back  and  fell,  with  the  death- 
wound  in  his  breast. 

At  last,  one  tall  wretch,  with  blood-red  eyes  and 
distorted  features,  leaped  across  a  heap  of  slain  and 
laid  hold  of  Nehushta  by  the  hair  with  his  reeking 
hand,  and  strove  to  drag  her  out.  But  Zoroaster's  thin 
arms  went  round  her  like  lightning  and  clasped  her 
to  his  breast.  Then  the  little  Syrian  maid  raised  her 
Indian  knife,  with  both  hands,  high  above  her  head, 
and  smote  the  villain  with  all  her  might  beneath  the 


ZOROASTER.  289 

fifth  rib,  that  he  died  in  the  very  act ;  but  ere  he  had 
fallen,  a  sharp  blade  fell  swiftly,  like  a  crooked  flash 
of  light,  and  severed  the  small  hands  at  the  wrist; 
and  the  brave,  true-hearted  little  maid  fell  shrieking 
to  the  floor.  One  shriek  —  and  that  was  all ;  for  the 
same  sword  smote  her  again  as  she  lay,  and  so  she 
died. 

But  Nehushta's  head  fell  forward  on  the  high  priest's 
breast,  and  her  arms  clasped  him  wildly  as  his  clasped 
her. 

"  Oh,  Zoroaster,  my  beloved,  my  beloved !  Say  not 
any  more  that  I  am  unfaithful,  for  I  have  been  faith- 
ful even  unto  death,  and  I  shall  be  with  you  beyond 
the  stars  for  ever  I  " 

He  pressed  her  closer  still,  and  in  that  awful 
moment,  his  white  face  biazea  with  the  radiant  light 
of  the  new  life  that  comes  by  death  alone. 

"  Beyond  the  stars  and  for  ever !  "  he  cried.  "  In 
the  light  of  the  glory  of  God  most  high  !  " 

The  keen  sword  flashed  out  once  more  and  severed 
Nehushta's  neck,  and  foiind  its  sheath  in  her  lover's 
heart;  and  they  fell  down  dead  together,  and  the 
slaughter  was  done. 

But  on  the  third  day,  Darius  the  king  returned; 
for  a  messenger  met  him,  bringing  news  that  his 
soldiers  had  slain  the  rebels  in  Ecbatana,  though  they 
were  ten  to  one.  And  when  he  saw  what  things  had 
been  done  in  Stakhar,  and  looked  upon  the  body  of 
the  wife  he  had  loved,  lying  clasped  in  the  arms  of 
his  most  faithful  and  beloved  servant,  he  wept  most 
bitterly.  And  he  rode  forth  and  destroyed  utterly 
the  wild  riders  of  the  eastern  hills,  and  left  not  one 

u 


290  ZOROASTER. 

child  to  weep  for  its  father  that  was  dead.  But  two 
thousand  of  them  he  brought  to  Stakhar,  and  cruci- 
fied them  all  upon  the  roadside,  that  their  blood 
might  avenge  the  blood  of  those  he  had  loved  so 
well. 

And  he  took  the  bodies  of  Zoroaster  the  high  priest, 
and  of  Nehushta  the  queen,  and  of  the  little  Syrian 
maid,  and  he  buried  them  with  spices  and  fine  linen, 
and  in  plates  of  pure  gold,  together  in  a  tomb  over 
against  the  palace,  hewn  in  the  rock  of  the  mountain. 


THE  END. 


MAEZIO'S    CEUCIFIX 


CHAPTEE  I 

"  The  whole  of  this  modern  fabric  of  existence  is  a 
living  lie  ! "  cried  Marzio  Pandolfi,  striking  his  little 
hammer  upon  the  heavy  table  with  an  impatient  rap. 
Then  he  dropped  it  and  turning  on  his  stool  rested 
one  elbow  upon  the  board  while  he  clasped  his  long, 
nervous  fingers  together  and  stared  hard  at  his  hand- 
some apprentice.  Gianbattista  Bordogni  looked  up 
from  his  work  without  relinquishing  his  tools,  nodded 
gravely,  stared  up  at  the  high  window,  and  then  went 
on  hammering  gently  upon  his  little  chisel,  guiding 
the  point  carefully  among  the  delicate  arabesques 
traced  upon  the  silver. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  quietly,  after  a  few  seconds,  "  it  is 
all  a  lie.  But  what  do  you  expect,  Maestro  Marzio  ? 
You  might  as  well  talk  to  a  stone  wall  as  preach 
liberty  to  these  cowards." 

"  Nevertheless,  there  are   some — there   are  half  a 

dozen "   muttered   Marzio,   relapsing   into   sullen 

discontent  and  slowly  turning  the  body  of  the  chalice 
beneath  the  cord  stretched  by  the  pedal  on  which  he 


2  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  i 

pressed  his  foot.  Having  brought  under  his  hand  a 
round  boss  which  was  to  become  the  head  of  a  cherub 
under  his  chisel,  he  rubbed  his  fingers  over  the  smooth 
silver,  mechanically,  while  he  contemplated  the  red 
wax  model  before  him.  Then  there  was  silence  for  a 
space,  broken  only  by  the  quick,  irregular  striking  of 
the  two  little  hammers  upon  the  heads  of  the  chisels. 

Maestro  Marzio  Pandolfi  was  a  skilled  workman 
and  an  artist.  He  was  one  of  the  last  of  those 
workers  in  metals  who  once  sent  their  masterpieces 
from  Rome  to  the  great  cathedrals  of  the  world ;  one 
of  the  last  of  the  artistic  descendants  of  Caradosso,  of 
Benvenuto  Cellini,  of  Claude  Ballin,  and  of  all  their 
successors ;  one  of  those  men  of  rare  talent  who  unite 
the  imagination  of  the  artist  with  the  executive  skill 
of  the  practised  workman.  They  are  hard  to  find 
nowadays.  Of  all  the  twenty  chisellers  of  various 
ages  who  hammered  from  morning  till  night  in  the 
rooms  outside,  one  only — Gianbattista  Bordogni — 
had  been  thought  worthy  by  his  master  to  share  the 
privacy  of  the  inner  studio.  The  lad  had  talent,  said 
Maestro  Marzio,  and,  what  was  more,  the  lad  had 
ideas — ideas  about  life,  about  the  future  of  Italy, 
about  the  future  of  the  world's  society.  Marzio  found 
in  him  a  pupil,  an  artist  and  a  follower  of  his  own 
political  creed. 

It  was  a  small  room  in  which  they  worked  together. 


CHAP.  1  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  3 

Plain  wooden  shelves  lined  two  of  the  walls  from 
the  floor  to  the  ceiling.  The  third  was  occupied  by 
tables  and  a  door,  and  in  the  fourth  high  grated  win- 
dows were  situated,  from  which  the  clear  ligjht  fell 
upon  the  long  bench  before  which  the  two  men  sat 
upon  high  stools.  Upon  the  shelves  were  numerous 
models  in  red  wax,  of  chalices,  monstrances,  marvel- 
lous ewers  and  embossed  basins  for  the  ablution  of  the 
priests'  hands,  crucifixes,  crowns,  palm  and  olive 
branches — in  a  word,  models  of  all  those  things  which 
pertain  to  the  service  and  decoration  of  the  church, 
and  upon  which  it  has  been  the  privilege  of  the  silver- 
smith to  expend  his  art  and  labour  from  time  im- 
memorial until  the  present  day.  There  were  some 
few  casts  in  plaster,  but  almost  all  were  of  that  deep 
red,  strong-smelling  wax  which  is  the  most  fit  medium 
for  the  temporary  expression  and  study  of  very  fine 
and  intricate  designs.  There  is  something  in  the  very 
colour  which,  to  one  acquainted  with  the  art,  suggests 
beautiful  fancies.  It  is  the  red  of  the  Pompeian 
walls,  and  the  rich  tint  seems  to  call  up  the  matchless 
traceries  of  the  ancients.  Old  chisellers  say  that  no 
one  can  model  anything  wholly  bad  in  red  wax,  and 
there  is  truth  in  the  saying.  The  material  is  old — 
the  older  the  better ;  it  has  passed  under  the  hand  of 
the  artist  again  and  again ;  it  has  taken  form,  served 
for  the  model  of  a  lasting  work,  been  kneaded  together 


4  MAKZIO  S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  i 

in  a  lump,  been  worked  over  and  over  by  the  box- 
wood tool.  The  workman  feels  that  it  has  absorbed 
some  of  the  qualities  of  the  master's  genius,  and 
touches  it  with  the  certainty  that  its  stiff  substance 
will  yield  new  forms  of  beauty  in  his  fingers,  render- 
ing up  some  of  its  latent  capacity  of  shape  at  each 
pressure  and  twist  of  the  deftly-handled  instrument. 

At  the  extremities  of  the  long  bench  huge  iron  vices 
were  fixed  by  staples  that  ran  into  the  ground.  In 
one  of  these  was  fastened  the  long  curved  tool  which 
serves  to  beat  out  the  bosses  of  hollow  and  small- 
necked  vessels.  Each  of  the  workmen  had  a  pedal 
beneath  his  foot  from  which  a  soft  cord  ascended, 
passed  through  the  table,  and  pressed  the  round  object 
on  which  he  w^as  working  upon  a  thick  leather  cushion, 
enabling  him  to  hold  it  tightly  in  its  place,  or  by 
lifting  his  foot  to  turn  it  to  a  new  position.  In  pots 
full  of  sand  were  stuck  hundreds  of  tiny  chisels,  so 
that  the  workmen  could  select  at  a  glance  the  exact 
form  of  tool  needful  for  the  moment.  Two  or  three 
half  balls  of  heavy  stone  stood  in  leathern  collars, 
their  flat  surfaces  upwards  and  covered  with  a  brown 
composition  of  pitch  and  beeswax  an  inch  thick,  in 
which  small  pieces  of  silver  were  firmly  embedded  in 
position  to  be  chiselled= 

The  workshop  was  pervaded  by  a  smell  of  wax  and 
pitch,   mingled   with    the    curious    undefinable    odour 


CHAP.  1  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  5 

exhaled  from  steel  tools  in  constant  use,  and  supple- 
mented by  the  fumes  of  Marzio's  pipe.  The  red 
bricks  in  the  portion  of  the  floor  where  the  two  men 
sat  were  rubbed  into  hollows,  but  the  dust  had  been 
allowed  to  accumulate  freely  in  the  rest  of  the  room, 
and  the  dark  corners  were  full  of  cobwebs  which  had 
all  the  air  of  being  inhabited  by  spiders  of  formidable 
dimensions. 

Marzio  Pandolfi,  who  bent  over  his  work  and  busily 
plied  his  little  hammer  during  the  interval  of  silence 
which  followed  his  apprentice's  last  remark,  was  the 
sole  owner  and  master  of  the  establishment.  He  was 
forty  years  of  age,  thin  and  dark.  His  black  hair  was 
turning  grey  at  the  temples,  and  though  not  long,  hung 
forward  over  his  knitted  eyebrows  in  disorderly  locks. 
He  had  a  strange  face.  His  head,  broad  enough  at 
the  level  of  the  eyes,  rose  to  a  high  prominence 
towards  the  back,  while  his  forehead,  which  projected 
forward  at  the  heavy  brows,  sloped  backwards  in  the 
direction  of  the  summit.  The  large  black  eyes  were 
deep  and  hollow,  and  there  were  broad  rings  of  dark 
colour  around  them,  so  that  they  seemed  strangely 
thrown  into  relief  above  the  sunken,  colourless  cheeks. 
Marzio's  nose  was  long  and  pointed,  very  straight,  and 
descending  so  suddenly  from  the  forehead  as  to  make 
an  angle  with  the  latter  the  reverse  of  the  one  most 
common  in  human  faces.      Seen  in  profile,  the  brows 


6  MAKZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  CHAP.  I 

formed  the  most  prominent  point,  and  the  line  of  the 
head  ran  back  above,  while  the  line  of  the  nose  fell 
inward  from  the  perpendicular  down  to  the  small 
curved  nostrils.  The  short  black  moustache  was  thick 
enough  to  hide  the  lips,  though  deep  furrows  sur- 
rounded the  mouth  and  terminated  in  a  very  promi- 
nent but  pointed  chin.  The  whole  face  expressed 
unusual  qualities  and  defects ;  the  gifts  of  the  artist, 
the  tenacity  of  the  workman  and  the  small  astuteness 
of  the  plebeian  were  mingled  with  an  appearance  of 
something  which  was  not  precisely  ideality,  but  which 
might  easily  be  fanaticism. 

Marzio  was  tall  and  very  thin.  His  limbs  seemed 
to  move  rather  by  the  impulse  of  a  nervous  current 
within  than  by  any  development  of  normal  force  in 
the  muscles,  and  his  long  and  slender  fingers,  naturally 
yellow  and  discoloured  by  the  use  of  tools  and  the 
handling  of  cements,  might  have  been  parts  of  a 
machine,  for  they  had  none  of  that  look  of  humanity 
which  one  seeks  in  the  hand,  and  by  which  one  in- 
stinctively judges  the  character.  He  was  dressed  in  a 
woollen  blouse,  which  hung  in  odd  folds  about  his 
emaciated  frame,  but  which  betrayed  the  roundness  of 
his  shoulders,  and  the  extreme  length  of  his  arms. 
His  apprentice,  Gianbattista  Bordogni,  wore  the  same 
costume ;  but  beyond  his  clothing  he  bore  no  trace  of 
any  resemblance  to  his  master.      He  was  not  a  bad 


CHAP.  I  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  7 

type  of  the  young  Eoman  of  Lis  class  at  five- an d- 
twenty  years  of  age.  His  thick  black  hair  curled  all 
over  his  head,  from  his  low  forehead  to  the  back  of 
his  neck,  and  his  head  was  of  a  good  shape,  full  and 
round,  broad  over  the  brows  and  high  above  the  orifice 
of  the  ear.  His  eyes  were  brown  and  not  over  large, 
but  well  set,  and  his  nose  was  slightly  aquiline,  while 
his  delicate  black  moustache  showed  the  pleasant 
curve  of  his  even  lips.  There  was  colour  in  his 
cheeks,  too — that  rich  colour  which  dark  men  some- 
times have  in  their  youth.  He  was  of  middle  height, 
strong  and  compactly  built,  with  large,  well-made 
hands  that  seemed  to  have  more  power  in  them,  if 
less  subtle  skill,  than  those  of  Maestro  Marzio. 

"  Eemember  what  I  told  you  about  the  second  in- 
dentation of  the  acanthus,"  said  the  elder  workman, 
without  looking  round  ;  "  a  light,  light  hand — no  holes 
in  this  work  1" 

Gianbattista  murmured  a  sort  of  assent,  which 
showed  that  the  warning  was  not  wanted.  He  was 
intent  upon  the  delicate  operation  he  was  performing. 
Again  the  hammers  beat  irregularly. 

"The  more  I  think  of  it,"  said  Marzio  after  the 
pause,  "  the  more  I  am  beside  myself.  To  think  that 
you  and  I  should  be  nailed  to  our  stools  here,  week- 
days and  feast-days,  to  finish  a  piece  of  work  for  a 
scoundrelly  priest " 


8  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  i 

''A  cardinal,"  suggested  Gianbattista. 

"  Well !  What  difference  is  there  ?  He  is  a  priest, 
I  suppose — a  creature  wlio  dresses  himself  up  like  a 
pulcinella  before  his  altar — to " 

"  Softly ! "  ejaculated  the  young  man,  looking  round 
to  see  whether  the  door  was  closed. 

"  Why  softly  ? "  asked  the  other  angrily,  though  his 
annoyance  did  not  seem  to  communicate  itself  to  the 
chisel  he  held  in  his  hand,  and  which  continued  its 
work  as  delicately  as  though  its  master  were  humming 
a  pastoral.  "  Why  softly  ?  An  apoplexy  on  your 
softness !  The  papers  speak  as  loudly  as  they  please 
— why  should  I  hold  my  tongue  ?  A  dog-butcher  of 
a  priest !" 

"  Well,"  answered  Gianbattista  in  a  meditative  tone, 
as  he  selected  another  chisel,  "  he  has  the  money  to 
pay  for  what  he  orders.  If  he  had  not,  we  would  not 
work  for  him,  I  suppose." 

"  If  we  had  the  money,  you  mean,"  retorted  Marzio. 
"  WTiy  the  devil  should  he  have  money  rather  than 
we  ?  Why  don't  you  answer  ?  Why  should  he  wear 
silk  stockings — red  silk  stockings,  the  animal  ?  "Why 
should  he  want  a  silver  ewer  and  basin  to  wash  his 
hands  at  his  mass  ?  Why  would  not  an  earthen  one 
do  as  well,  such  as  I  use  ?  Why  don't  you  answer  ? 
Eh?" 

"  Why  should  Prince  Borghese  live  in  a  palace  and 


CHAP,  t  MARZIO'S    CRUCmX  S 

keep  scores  of  horses  ? "  inquired  the  young  man 
calmly. 

"  Ay — why  should  he  ?  Is  there  any  known  reason 
why  he  should  ?  Am  I  not  a  man  as  well  as  he  ? 
Are  you  not  a  man — you  young  donkey  ?  I  hate  to 
think  that  we,  who  are  artists,  who  can  work  when 
we  are  put  to  it,  have  to  slave  for  such  fellows  as 
that — mumbling  priests,  bloated  princes,  a  pack  of 
fools  who  are  incapable  of  an  idea  1  An  idea  !  What 
am  I  saying  ?  Who  have  not  the  common  intelli- 
gence of  a  cabbage-seller  in  the  street !  And  look  at 
the  work  we  give  them — the  creation  of  our  minds, 
the  labour  of  our  hands " 

"  They  give  us  their  money  in  return,"  observed 
Gianbattista.  "  The  ancients,  whom  you  are  so  fond 
of  talking  about,  used  to  get  their  work  done  by  slaves 
chained  to  the  bench " 

"  Yes  !  And  it  has  taken  us  two  thousand  years  to 
get  to  the  point  we  have  reached  !  Two  thousand 
years — and  what  is  it  ?  Are  we  any  better  than 
slaves,  except  that  we  work  better?" 

"  I  doubt  whether  we  work  better." 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you  this  morning  ?  "  cried 
Marzio.  "  Have  you  been  sneaking  into  some  church 
on  your  way  here  ?  Pah  1  You  smell  of  the  sacristy  ! 
Has  Paolo  been  here  ?  Oh,  to  think  that  a  brother  of 
mine  should  be  a  priest  I     It  is  not  to  be  believed  ! " 


10  MAEZIO'S    CKUCIFIX  chap,  i 

"It  is  the  irony  of  fate.  Moreover,  lie  gets  you 
plenty  of  orders." 

"  Yes,  and  no  doubt  he  takes  his  percentage  on  the 
price.  He  had  a  new  cloak  last  month,  and  he  asked 
me  to  make  him  a  pair  of  silver  buckles  for  his  shoes. 
Pretty,  that — an  artist's  brother  with  silver  buckles  ! 
I  told  him  to  go  to  the  devil,  his  father,  for  his  orna- 
ments. Why  does  he  not  steal  an  old  pair  from  the 
cardinal,  his  bondmaster  ?  Not  good  enough,  I  sup- 
pose— beast !" 

Marzio  laid  aside  his  hammer  and  chisel,  and  lit 
the  earthen  pipe  with  the  rough  wooden  stem  that  lay 
beside  him.  Then  he  examined  the  beautiful  head  of 
the  angel  he  had  been  making  upon  the  body  of  the 
ewer.  He  touched  it  lovingly,  loosed  the  cord,  and 
lifted  the  piece  from  the  pad,  turning  it  towards  the 
light  and  searching  critically  for  any  defect  in  the 
modelling  of  the  little  face.  He  replaced  it  on  the 
table,  and  selecting  a  very  fine -pointed  punch,  laid 
down  his  pipe  for  a  moment  and  set  about  putting  the 
tiny  pupils  into  the  eyes.  Two  touches  w^ere  enough. 
He  began  smoking  again,  and  contemplated  what  he 
had  done.  It  was  the  body  of  a  large  silver  ewer  of 
which    Gianbattista   was    ornamentinsf   the   neck    and 

o 

mouth,  which  were  of  a  separate  piece.  Amongst  the 
intricate  arabesques  little  angels'  heads  were  embossed, 
and  on  one  side   a  group   of  cherubs   was   bearing  a 


CHAP.  I  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  11 

"  monstrance "  with  tlic  sacred  Host  through  silver 
clouds.  A  hackneyed  subject  on  church  vessels,  but 
which  had  taken  wonderful  beauty  under  the  skilled 
fingers  of  the  artist,  who  sat  cursing  the  priest  who 
was  to  use  it,  while  expending  his  best  talents  on  its 
perfections. 

"  It  is  not  bad,"  he  said  rather  doubtfully.  "  Come 
and  look'  at  it,  Tista,"  he  added.  The  young  man  left 
his  place  and  came  and  bent  over  his  master's  shoulder, 
examining  the  piece  with  admiration.  It  was  charac- 
teristic of  Marzio  that  he  asked  his  apprentice's  opinion. 
He  was  an  artist,  and  had  the  chief  peculiarities  of 
artists  —  namely,  diffidence  concerning  what  he  had 
done,  and  impatience  of  the  criticism  of  others,  to- 
gether with  a  strong  desire  to  show  his  work  as  soon 
as  it  was  presentable. 

"  It  is  a  masterpiece  ! "  exclaimed  Gianbattista. 
"  What  detail  !  I  shaU  never  be  able  to  finish  any- 
thing like  that  cherub's  face  !" 

"  Do  you  think  it  is  as  good  as  the  one  I  made  last 
year,  Tista  ? " 

"  Better,"  returned  the  young  man  confidently.  "  It 
is  the  best  you  have  ever  made.  I  am  quite  sure  of 
it.  You  should  always  work  when  you  are  in  a  bad 
humour ;  you  are  so  successful ! " 

"  Bad  humour !  I  am  always  in  a  bad  humour," 
grumbled  Marzio,  rising  and  walking  about  the  brick 


12  MAEZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  i 

floor,  while  he  puffed  clouds  of  acrid  smoke  from  his 
coarse  pipe.  "  There  is  enough  in  this  world  to  keep 
a  man  in  a  bad  humour  all  his  life." 

"  I  might  say  that,"  answered  Gianbattista,  turning 
round  on  his  stool  and  watching  his  master's  angular 
movements  as  he  rapidly  paced  the  room.  "  I  might 
abuse  fate — but  you !  You  are  rich,  married,  a  father, 
a  great  artist !  " 

"What  stuff!"  interrupted  Marzio,  standing  still 
with  his  long  legs  apart,  and  folding  his  arms  as  he 
spoke  through  his  teeth,  between  which  he  still  held 
his  pipe.  "Eich?  Yes — able  to  have  a  good  coat 
for  feast-days,  meat  when  I  want  it,  and  my  brother's 
company  when  I  don't  want  it — for  a  luxury,  you 
know !  Able  to  take  my  wife  to  Frascati  on  the  last 
Thursday  of  October  as  a  great  holiday.  My  wife, 
too  !  A  creature  of  beads  and  saints  and  little  books 
with  crosses  on  them — who  would  leer  at  a  friar 
through  the  grating  of  a  confessional,  and  who  makes 
the  house  hideous  with  her  howling  if  I  choose  to  eat 
a  bit  of  pork  on  a  Friday  !  A  good  wife  indeed  !  A 
jewel  of  a  wife,  and  an  apoplexy  on  all  such  jewels ! 
A  nice  wife,  who  has  a  face  like  a  head  from  a  tomb- 
stone in  the  Campo  Yarano  for  her  husband,  and  who 
has  brought  up  her  daughter  to  believe  that  her  father 
is  condemned  to  everlasting  flames  because  he  hates 
cod-fish — salt  cod-fish  soaked  in  water  !     A  wife  who 


CHAP.  I 


MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  13 


sticks  images  in  the  lining  of  my  liat  to  convert  me, 
and  sprinkles  holy  water  on  me  when  she  thinks 
I  am  asleep,  but  I  caught  her  at  that  the  other 
night " 

"Indeed,  they  say  the  devil  does  not  like  holy 
water,"  remarked  Gianbattista,  laughing. 

"  And  you  want  to  marry  my  daughter,  you  young 
fool,"  continued  Marzio,  not  heeding  the  interruption. 
"You  do.  I  will  tell  you  what  she  is  like.  My 
daughter — yes ! — she  has  fine  eyes,  but  she  has  the 
tongue  of  the " 

"Of  her  father,"  suggested  Gianbattista,  suddenly 
frowning. 

"Yes — of  her  father,  without  her  father's  sense," 
cried  Marzio  angrily.  "  With  her  eyes,  those  fine  eyes  ! 
— those  eyes  ! — you  want  to  marry  her.  If  you  wish 
to  take  her  away,  you  may,  and  good  riddance.  I 
want  no  daughter ;  there  are  too  many  women  in  the 
world  already.  They  and  the  priests  do  all  the  harm 
between  them,  because  the  priests  know  how  to  think 
too  well,  and  women  never  think  at  all.  I  wish  you 
good  luck  of  your  marriage  and  of  your  wife.  If  you 
were  my  son  you  would  never  have  thought  of  getting 
married.  The  mere  idea  of  it  made  you  send  your 
chisel  through  a  cherub's  eye  last  week  and  cost  an 
hour's  time  for  repairing.  Is  that  the  way  to  look  at 
the  great  question  of  humanity  ?     Ah  !  if  I  were  only 


14  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  i 

a  deputy  in  the  Chambers,  I  would  teach  you  the 
philosophy  of  all  that  rubbish  1 " 

"  I  thought  you  said  the  other  day  that  you  would 
not  have  any  deputies  at  all/'  observed  the  apprentice, 
playing  with  his  hammer. 

"  Such  as  these  are — no  !  A  few  of  them  I  would 
put  into  the  acid  bath,  as  I  would  a  casting,  to  clean 
them  before  chiselling  them  down.  They  might  be 
good  for  something  then.  You  must  begin  by  knock- 
ing down,  boy,  if  you  want  to  build  up.  You  must 
knock  down  everything,  raze  the  existing  system  to 
the  ground,  and  upon  the  place  where  it  stood  shall 
rise  the  mighty  temple  of  immortal  liberty." 

"  And  who  will  buy  your  chalices  and  monstrances 
under  the  new  order  of  tilings  ? "  inquired  Gianbattista 
coldly. 

"  The  foreign  market,"  returned  Marzio.  "  Italy 
shall  be  herself  again,  as  she  was  in  the  days  of 
Michael  Angelo ;  of  Leonardo,  who  died  in  the  arms 
of  a  king ;  of  Cellini,  who  shot  a  prince  from  the  walls 
of  Saint  Angelo.  Italy  shall  be  great,  shall  mono- 
polise the  trade,  the  art,  the  greatness  of  all  creation  !" 

"A  lucrative  monopoly!"  exclaimed  the  young 
man. 

"  Monopolies !  There  shall  be  no  monopolies ! 
The  free  artisan  shaU  sell  what  he  can  make  and 
buy  what  he   pleases.      The  priests   shall   be   turned 


CHAP.  I  MARZTO'S    CRUCIFIX  15 

out  in  cliain  cranes  and  build  roads  for  our  conveni- 
ence,  and  the  superfluous  females  shall  all  be  deported 
to  the  glorious  colony  of  Massowah !  If  I  could  but 
be  absolute  master  of  this  country  for  a  week  I  could 
do  much." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  of  it,"  answered  Gianbattista,  with 
a  quiet  smile. 

"  I  should  think  not,"  assented  Marzio  proudly ; 
then  catching  sight  of  the  expression  on  the  young 
man's  face,  he  turned  sharply  upon  him.  "You  are 
mocking  me,  you  good-for-nothing !"  he  cried  angrily. 
"  You  are  laughing  at  me,  at  your  master,  you  villain, 
you  wretch,  you  sickly  hound,  you  priest-ridden  worm  ! 
It  is  intolerable  !  It  is  the  first  time  you  have  ever 
dared;  do  you  think  I  am  going  to  allow  you  to 
think  for  yourself  after  all  the  pains  I  have  taken  to 
educate  you,  to  teach  you  my  art,  you  ungrateful 
reptile  ?" 

"  If  you  were  not  such  a  great  artist  I  would  have 
left  you  long  ago,"  answered  the  apprentice.  "  Besides, 
I  believe  in  your  principles.  It  is  your  expression  of 
them  that  makes  me  laugh  now  and  then  ;  I  think  you 
go  too  far  sometimes  !  " 

"  As  if  any  one  had  ever  gone  far  enough !"  ex- 
claimed Marzio,  somewhat  pacified,  for  his  moods  were 
very  quick.  "  Since  there  are  still  men  who  are  richer 
than  others,  it  is  a  sign  that  we  have  not  gone  to  the 


16  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  i 

end — to  the  great  end  in  which  we  believe.  I  am 
sure  you  believe  in  it  too,  Tista,  don't  you  ?" 

"  Oh  yes — in  the  end — certainly.  Do  not  let  us 
quarrel  about  the  means,  Maestro  Marzio.  I  must  do 
another  leaf  before  dinner." 

"I  will  get  in  another  cherub's  nose,"  said  his 
master,  preparing  to  relight  his  pipe  for  a  whiff 
before  going  to  work  again.  "  Body  of  a  dog,  these 
priests  !"  he  grumbled,  as  he  attacked  the  next  angel 
on  the  ewer  with  matchless  dexterity  and  steadiness. 
A  long  pause  followed  the  animated  discourse  of  the 
chiseller.  Both  men  were  intent  upon  their  work, 
alternately  holding  their  breath  for  the  delicate  strokes, 
and  breathing  more  freely  as  the  chisel  reached  the 
end  of  each  tiny  curve. 

"I  think  you  said  a  little  while  ago  that  I  might 
marry  Lucia,"  observed  Gianbattista,  without  looking 
up,  "  that  is,  if  I  would  take  her  away !" 

"And  if  you  take  her  away,"  retorted  the  other, 
"where  will  you  get  bread  ?" 

"Where  I  get  it  now.  I  could  live  somewhere 
else  and  come  here  to  work  ;  it  seems  simple  enough." 

"  It  seems  simple,  but  it  is  not,"  replied  Marzio. 
"  Perhaps  you  could  try  and  get  Paolo's  commissions 
away  from  me,  and  then  set  up  a  studio  for  yourself; 
but  I  doubt  whether  you  could  succeed.  I  am  not  old 
yet,  nor  blind,  nor  shaky,  thank  God  !" 


CHAP.  I  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  l7 

"  I  did  not  catch  tlie  last  words/'  said  Gianbattista, 
hiding  his  smile  over  his  work. 

"  I  said  I  was  not  old,  nor  broken  down  yet,  thanks 
to  my  strength,"  growled  the  chiseller ;  "  you  will  not 
steal  my  commissions  yet  awhile.  What  is  the  matter 
with  you  to-day  ?  You  find  fault  with  half  I  say,  and 
the  other  half  you  do  not  hear  at  all.  You  seem  to 
have  lost  your  head,  Tista.  Be  steady  over  those 
acanthus  leaves ;  everybody  thinks  an  acanthus  leaf  is 
the  easiest  thing  in  the  world,  whereas  it  is  one  of  the 
most  difficult  before  you  get  to  figures.  Most  chisellers 
seem  to  copy  their  acanthus  leaves  from  the  cabbage 
in  their  soup.  They  work  as  though  they  had  never 
seen  the  plant  growing.  When  the  Greeks  began  to 
carve  Corinthian  capitals,  they  must  have  worked  from 
real  leaves,  as  I  taught  you  to  model  when  you  were  a 
boy.      Few  things  are  harder  than  a  good  acanthus  leaf." 

"  I  should  think  women  could  do  the  delicate  part 
of  our  work  very  well,"  said  the  apprentice,  returning 
to  the  subject  from  which  Marzio  was  evidently  trying 
to  lead  him.     "  Lucia  has  such  very  clever  fingers." 

"  Idiot !"  muttered  Marzio  between  his  teeth,  not 
deigning  to  make  any  further  answer. 

The  distant  boom  of  a  gun  broke  upon  the  silence 
that  followed,  and  immediately  the  bells  of  all  the 
neighbouring  churches  rang  out  in  quick  succession. 
It  was  midday. 

c 


18  MARZIO*S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  i 

"  I  did  not  expect  to  finish  that  nose,"  said  Marzio, 
rising  from  his  stooL  He  was  a  punctual  man,  who 
exacted  punctuality  in  others,  and  in  spite  of  his  thin 
frame  and  nervous  ways,  he  loved  his  dinner.  In  five 
minutes  all  the  men  had  left  the  workshop,  and  Marzio 
and  his  apprentice  stood  in  the  street,  the  former  lock- 
ing the  heavy  door  with  a  lettered  padlock,  while  the 
younger  man  sniffed  the  fresh  spring  air  that  blew  from 
the  west  out  of  the  square  of  San  Carlo  a  Catenari 
down  the  Via  dei  Falegnami  in  which  the  establish- 
ment of  the  silver-chiseller  was  situated. 

As  Marzio  fumbled  with  the  fastenings  of  the  door, 
two  women  came  up  and  stopped.  Marzio  had  his 
back  turned,  and  Gianbattista  touched  his  hat  in 
silence.  The  younger  of  the  two  was  a  stout,  black- 
haired  woman  of  eight-and-thirty  years,  dressed  in  a 
costume  of  dark  green  cloth,  which  fitted  very  closely 
to  her  exuberantly-developed  bust,  and  was  somewhat 
too  elaborately  trimmed  with  imitation  of  jet  and  black 
ribands.  A  high  bonnet,  decorated  with  a  bunch  of 
purple  glass  grapes  and  dark  green  leaves,  surmounted 
the  lady's  massive  head,  and  though  carefully  j)ut  on 
and  neatly  tied,  seemed  too  small  for  the  wearer.  Her 
ears  were  adorned  by  long  gold  earrings,  in  each  of 
which  were  three  large  garnets,  and  these  trinkets 
dangled  outside  and  over  the  riband  of  the  bonnet, 
which  passed   under  her  chin.      In  her  large  hands, 


CHAP.  I  MAEZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  19 

covered  with  tight  black  gloves,  she  carried  a  dark  red 
parasol  and  a  somewhat  shabby  little  black  leather  bag 
with  steel  fastenings.  The  stout  lady's  face  was  of  the 
type  common  among  the  Eoman  women  of  the  lower 
class — very  broad  and  heavy,  of  a  creamy  white  com- 
plexion, the  upper  lip  shaded  by  a  dark  fringe  of  down, 
and  the  deep  sleepy  eyes  surmounted  by  heavy  straight 
eyebrows.  Her  hair,  brought  forward  from  under  her 
bonnet,  made  smooth  waves  upon  her  low  forehead  and 
reappeared  in  thick  coils  at  the  back  of  her  neck.  Her 
nose  w^as  relatively  small,  but  too  thick  and  broad  at 
the  nostrils,  although  it  departed  but  little  from  the 
straight  line  of  the  classic  model.  Altogether  the 
Signora  Pandolfi,  christened  Maria  Luisa,  and  wife  to 
Marzio  the  silver-chiseller,  was  a  portly  and  pompous- 
looking  person,  who  wore  an  air  of  knowing  her 
position,  and  of  being  sure  to  maintain  it.  Neverthe- 
less, there  was  a  kindly  expression  in  her  fat  face,  and 
if  her  eyes  looked  sleepy  they  did  not  look  dishonest. 

Signora  Pandolfi's  companion  was  her  old  maid- 
of-all-w^ork,  Assunta,  commonly  called  Suntarella,  with- 
out whom  she  rarely  stirred  abroad — a  little  old 
woman,  in  neat  but  dingy-coloured  garments,  with 
a  grey  woollen  shawl  drawn  over  her  head  like  a  cowl, 
instead  of  a  bonnet. 

Marzio  finished  fastening  the  door,  and  then  turned 
round.      On  seeing  his  wife  he  remained  silent  for  a 


20  MARZIO*S   CRUCIFIX  chap,  i 

moment,  looking  at  her  with  an  expression  of  dis- 
satisfied inquiry.      He  had  not  expected  her. 

"Well?"  he  ejaculated  at  last. 

"  It  is  dinner  time,"  remarked  the  stout  lady. 

"  Yes,  I  heard  the  gun,"  answered  Marzio  drily. 
"  It  is  the  same  as  if  you  had  told  me,"  he  added 
ironically,  as  he  turned  and  led  the  way  across  the 
street. 

"A  pretty  answer!"  exclaimed  Maria  Luisa,  tossing 
her  large  head  as  she  followed  her  lord  and  master  to 
the  door  of  their  house.  Meanwhile  Assunta,  the  old 
servant,  glanced  at  Gianbattista,  rolled  up  her  eyes 
with  an  air  of  resignation,  and  spread  out  her  withered 
hands  for  a  moment  with  a  gesture  of  despair,  instantly 
drawing  them  in  again  beneath  the  folds  of  her  grey 
woollen  shawl. 

"Gadding!"  muttered  Marzio,  as  he  entered  the 
narrow  door  from  which  the  dark  steps  led  abruptly 
upwards.  "  Gadding — always  gadding  !  And  who 
minds  the  soup-kettle  when  you  are  gadding,  I  should 
like  to  know  ?  The  cat,  I  suppose  !  Oh,  these  women 
and  their  priests  !     These  priests  and  these  women  !" 

"  Lucia  is  minding  the  soup-kettle,"  gasped  Maria 
Luisa,  as  she  puffed  up  stairs  behind  her  thin  and 
active  husband. 

"  Lucia !"  cried  Marzio  angrily,  a  flight  of  steps 
higher.       "  I    suppose   you   will    bring  her   up   to  be 


CHAP.  I  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  21 

woman  of  all  work  ?  Well,  she  could  earn  her  living 
then,  which  is  more  than  you  do  !  After  all,  it  is 
hetter  to  mind  a  soup-kettle  than  to  thump  a  piano 
and  to  squeal  so  that  I  can  hear  her  in  the  shop  op- 
posite, and  it  is  better  than  hanging  about  the  church 
all  the  morning,  or  listening  to  Paolo's  drivelling  talk. 
By  all  means  keep  her  in  the  kitchen." 

It  was  hard  to  say  whether  Signora  Pandolfi  was 
puffing  or  sighing  as  she  paused  for  breath  upon  the 
landing,  but  there  was  probably  something  of  both  in 
the  labour  of  her  lungs.  She  was  used  to  Marzio. 
She  had  lived  with  him  for  twenty  years,  and  she 
knew  his  moods  and  his  ways,  and  detected  the  com- 
ing storm  from  afar.  Unfortunately,  or  perhaps  for- 
tunately, for  her,  there  was  little  variety  in  the 
sequence  of  his  ideas.  She  was  accustomed  to  his 
beginning  at  the  grumbling  stage  before  dinner,  and 
proceeding  by  a  crescendo  movement  to  the  pitch  of 
rage,  which  was  rarely  reached  until  he  had  finished 
his  meal,  when  he  generally  seized  his  hat  and  dragged 
Gianbattista  away  with  him,  declaring  loudly  that 
women  were  not  fit  for  human  society.  The  daily 
excitement  of  this  comedy  had  long  lost  its  power  to 
elicit  anything  more  than  a  sigh  from  the  stout  Maria 
Luisa,  who  generally  bore  Marzio's  unreasonable  anger 
with  considerable  equanimity,  waiting  for  his  departure 
to  eat  her  boiled  beef  and  salad  in  peace  with  Lucia, 


22  MARZIO'S    CEUCIFIX  CHAP.  I 

while  old  Assiinta  sat  by  the  table  with  the  cat  in  her 
lap,  putting  in  a  word  of  commiseration  alternately 
with  a  word  of  gossip  about  the  lodgers  on  the  other 
side  of  the  landing.  The  latter  were  a  young  and 
happy  pair :  the  husband,  a  chorus  singer  at  the  Apollo, 
who  worked  at  glove  cleaning  during  the  day  time  ;  his 
wife,  a  sempstress,  who  did  repairs  upon  the  costumes 
of  the  theatre.  Their  apartments  consisted  of  two 
rooms  and  a  kitchen,  while  Marzio  and  his  family 
occupied  the  rest  of  the  floor,  and  entered  their  lodg- 
ing by  the  opposite  door. 

Maria  Luisa  envied  the  couple  in  her  sleepy  fashion. 
Her  husband  was  indeed  comparatively  rich,  and  though 
economical  in  his  domestic  arrangements,  he  had  money 
in  the  bank  enough  to  keep  him  comfortably  for  the 
rest  of  his  days.  His  violence  did  not  extend  beyond 
words  and  black  looks,  and  he  was  not  miserly  about 
a  few  francs  for  dress,  or  a  dinner  at  the  Falcone  two 
or  three  times  a  year.  But  in  the  matter  of  domestic 
peace  his  conduct  left  much  to  be  desired.  He  was  a 
sober  man,  but  his  hours  were  irregular,  for  he  attended 
the  meetings  of  a  certain  club  which  Maria  Luisa  held 
in  abhorrence,  and  brought  back  opinions  which  made 
her  cross  herself  with  her  fat  fingers,  shuddering  at  the 
things  he  said.  As  for  Gianbattista  Bordogni,  who 
lived  with  them,  and  consequently  received  most  of 
his  wages  in  the  shape  of  board  and  lodging,  he  loved 


CHAP.  I 


MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  23 


Lucia  Pandolfi,  his  master's  daughter,  and  though  he 
shared  Marzio's  opinions,  he  held  his  tongue  in  the 
house.  He  understood  how  necessary  to  him  the 
mother's  sympathy  must  be,  and,  with  subtle  intelli- 
gence, he  knew  how  to  create  a  contrast  between 
himself  and  his  master  by  being  reticent  at  the  right 
moment. 

Lucia  opened  the  door  in  answer  to  the  bell  her 
father  had  rung,  and  stood  aside  in  the  narrow  way  to 
let  members  of  the  household  pass  by,  one  by  one. 
Lucia  was  seventeen  years  old,  and  probably  resembled 
her  mother  as  the  latter  had  looked  at  the  same  age. 
She  was  slight,  and  tall,  and  dark,  with  a  quantity  of 
glossy  black  hair  coiled  behind  her  head.  Her  black 
eyes  had  not  yet  acquired  that  sleepy  look  which 
advancing  life  and  stoutness  had  put  into  her  mother's, 
as  a  sort  of  sign  of  the  difficulty  of  quick  motion. 
Her  figure  was  lithe,  though  she  was  not  a  very  active 
girl,  and  one  might  have  predicted  that  at  forty  she, 
too,  would  pay  her  debt  to  time  in  pounds  of  flesh. 
There  are  thin  people  who  look  as  though  they  could 
never  grow  stout,  and  there  are  others  whose  leisurely 
motion  and  deliberate  step  foretells  increase  of  weight. 
But  Gianbattista  had  not  studied  these  matters  ot 
physiological  horoscopy.  It  sufficed  him  that  Lucia 
Pandolfi  was  at  present  a  very  pretty  girl,  even 
beautiful,   according:?   to    some    standards.     Her  thick 


24  MAEZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  CHAP.  I 

hair,  low  forehead,  straight  classic  features,  and  severe 
mouth  fascinated  the  handsome  apprentice,  and  the 
intimacy  which  had  developed  between  the  two  during 
the  years  of  his  residence  under  Marzio's  roof,  from  the 
time  when  Lucia  was  a  little  girl  to  the  present  day, 
had  rendered  the  transition  from  friendship  to  love 
almost  imperceptible  to  them  both.  Gianbattista  was 
the  last  of  the  party  to  enter  the  lodging,  and  as  he 
paused  to  shut  the  door,  Lucia  was  still  lingering  at 
the  threshold. 

"  Hist !  They  will  see  !"  she  protested  under  her 
breath. 

"  What  do  I  care  1"  whispered  the  apprentice,  as  he 
kissed  her  cheek  in  the  dusky  passage.  Then  they 
followed  the  rest. 


CHAPTEE  II 

That  evening  Marzio  finished  the  last  cherub's  head 
on  the  ewer  before  he  left  the  shop.  He  had  sent 
Gianbattista  home,  and  had  dismissed  the  men  who 
were  working  at  a  huge  gilded  grating  ordered  by  a 
Eoman  prince  for  a  church  he  was  decorating.  Marzio 
worked  on  by  the  light  of  a  strong  lamp  until  the 
features  were  all  finished  and  he  had  indicated  the 
pupils  of  the  eyes  with  the  fine-pointed  punch.  Then 
he  sat  some  time  at  his  bench  with  the  beautiful  piece 
of  workmanship  under  his  fingers,  looking  hard  at  it 
and  straining  his  eyes  to  find  imperfections  that  did 
not  exist.  At  last  he  laid  it  down  tenderly  upon  the 
stuffed  leather  pad  and  stared  at  the  green  shade  of 
the  lamp,  deep  in  thought. 

The  man's  nature  was  in  eternal  conflict  with  itself, 
and  he  felt  as  though  he  were  the  battle-ground  of 
forces  he  could  neither  understand  nor  control.  A 
true  artist  in  feeling,  in  the  profound  cultivation  of 
his  tastes,  in  the  laborious  patience  with  which  he 
executed   his    designs,   there   was    an    element   in   his 


26  MAEZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  ii 

character  and  mind  which  was  in  direct  contradiction 
with  the  essence  of  what  art  is.  If  art  can  be  said 
to  depend  upon  anything  except  itself,  that  something 
is  rehgion.  The  arts  began  in  religious  surroundings, 
in  treating  religious  subjects,  and  the  history  of  the 
world  from  the  time  of  the  early  Egyptians  has  shown 
that  wdiere  genius  has  lost  faith  in  the  supernatural, 
its  efforts  to  produce  great  works  of  lasting  beauty  in 
the  sensual  and  material  atmosphere  of  another  century 
have  produced  comparatively  insignificant  results.  The 
science  of  silver-chiselling  began,  so  far  as  this  age  is 
concerned,  in  the  church.  The  tastes  of  Francis  the 
First  directed  the  attention  of  the  masters  of  the  art 
to  the  making  of  ornaments  for  his  mistresses,  and  for 
a  time  the  men  who  had  made  chalices  for  the  Vatican 
succeeded  in  making  jewelry  for  Madame  de  Chateau- 
briand, Madame  d'Etampes,  and  Diane  de  Poitiers. 
But  the  art  itself  remained  in  the  church,  and  the 
marvels  of  repoussS  gold  and  silver  to  be  seen  in  the 
church  of  Notre  Dame  des  Victoires,  the  masterpieces 
of  Ossani  of  Ptome,  could  not  have  been  produced  by 
any  goldsmith  who  made  jewelry  for  a  living. 

Marzio  Pandolfi  knew  all  this  better  than  any  one, 
and  he  could  no  more  have  separated  himself  from 
his  passion  for  making  chahces  and  crucifixes  than  he 
could  have  changed  the  height  of  his  stature  or  the 
colour  of  his  eyes.      But  at  the  same  time  he  hated 


CHAP.  II  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  27 

the  church,  the  priests,  and  every  one  who  was  to  use 
the  beautiful  things  over  which  he  spent  so  much 
time  and  labour.  Had  he  been  indifferent,  a  careless, 
good-natured  sceptic,  he  would  have  been  a  bad  artist. 
As  it  was,  the  very  violence  of  his  hatred  lent  spirit 
and  vigour  to  his  eye  and  hand.  He  was  willing  to 
work  upon  the  figure,  perfecting  every  detail  of  ex- 
pression, until  he  fancied  he  could  feel  and  see  the 
silver  limbs  of  the  dead  Christ  suffering  upon  the 
cross  under  the  diabolical  skill  of  his  long  fingers. 
The  monstrous  horror  of  the  thought  made  him  work 
marvels,  and  the  fancied  realisation  of  an  idea  that 
would  startle  even  a  hardened  unbeliever,  lent  a 
feverish  impulse  to  this  strange  man's  genius. 

As  for  the  angels  on  the  chalices,  he  did  not  hate 
them ;  on  the  contrary,  he  saw  in  them  the  reflection 
of  those  vague  images  of  loveliness  and  innocence 
which  haunt  every  artist's  soul  at  times,  and  the  mere 
manual  skill  necessary  to  produce  expression  in  things 
so  minute,  fascinated  a  mind  accustomed  to  cope  with 
difficulties,  and  so  inured  to  them  as  almost  to  love 
them. 

Nevertheless,  when  a  man  is  constantly  a  prey  to 
strong  emotions,  his  nature  cannot  long  remain  un- 
changed. The  conviction  had  been  growing  in  Marzio's 
mind  that  it  was  his  duty,  for  the  sake  of  consistency, 
to  abandon  his  trade.      The  thought  saddened  him, 


28  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  ii 

but  the  conclusion  seemed  inevitable.  It  was  absurd, 
he  repeated  to  himself,  that  one  who  hated  the  priests 
should  work  for  them.  Marzio  was  a  fanatic  in  his 
theories,  but  he  had  something  of  the  artist's  sim- 
pKcity  in  his  idea  of  the  way  they  should  be  carried 
out.  He  would  have  thought  it  no  harm  to  kill  a 
priest,  but  it  seemed  to  him  contemptible  to  receive 
a  priest's  money  for  providing  the  church  with  vessels 
which  were  to  serve  in  a  worship  he  despised. 

Moreover,  he  was  not  poor.  Indeed,  he  was  richer 
tlian  any  one  knew,  and  the  large  sums  paid  for  his 
matchless  work  went  straight  from  the  workshop  to 
the  bank,  while  Marzio  continued  to  live  in  the  simple 
lodgings  to  which  he  had  first  brought  home  his  wife, 
eighteen  years  before,  when  he  was  but  a  young  partner 
in  the  establishment  he  now  owned.  As  he  sat  at  the 
bench,  looking  from  his  silver  ewer  to  the  green  lamp- 
shade, he  was  asking  himself  whether  he  should  not  give 
up  this  life  of  working  for  people  he  hated  and  launch 
into  that  larger  work  of  political  agitation,  for  which 
he  fancied  himself  so  well  fitted.  He  looked  forward 
into  an  imaginary  future,  and  saw  himself  declaiming 
in  the  Chambers  against  all  that  existed,  rousing  the 
passions  of  a  multitude  to  acts  of  destruction — of 
justice,  as  he  caUed  it  in  his  thoughts — and  leading 
a  vast  army  of  angry  men  up  the  steps  of  the  Capitol 
to   proclaim  himself   the    champion   of   the    rights    of 


CHAP.  II  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  29 

man  against  the  rights  of  kings.  His  eyelids  con- 
tracted and  the  concentrated  light  of  his  eyes  was 
reduced  to  two  tiny  bright  specks  in  the  midst  of  the 
pupils  ;  his  nervous  hand  went  out  and  the  fingers 
clutched  the  jaws  of  the  iron  vice  beside  him  as  he 
would  have  wished  to  grapple  with  the  jaws  of  the 
beast  oppression,  which  in  his  dreams  seemed  ever 
tormenting  the  poor  world  in  which  he  lived. 

There  was  something  lacking  in  his  face,  even  in 
that  moment  of  secret  rage  as  he  sat  alone  in  his 
workroom  before  the  lamp.  There  was  the  frenzy 
of  the  fanatic,  the  exaltation  of  the  dreamer,  clearly 
expressed  upon  his  features,  but  there  was  something 
wanting.  There  was  everything  there  except  the 
force  to  accomplish,  the  initiative  which  oversteps  the 
bank  of  words,  threats,  and  angry  thoughts,  and 
plunges  boldly  into  the  stream,  ready  to  sacrifice  it- 
self to  lead  others.  The  look  of  power,  of  stern  de- 
termination, which  is  never  absent  from  the  faces  of 
men  who  change  their  times,  was  not  visible  in  the 
thin  dark  countenance  of  the  silver-chiseller.  Marzio 
was  destined  never  to  rise  above  the  common  howling 
mob  which  he  aspired  to  lead. 

This  fact  asserted  itself  outwardly  as  he  sat  there. 
After  a  few  minutes  the  features  relaxed,  a  smile  that 
was  almost  weak — the  smile  that  shows  that  a  man 
lacks   absolute    confidence — passed    quickly  over   his 


30  MAEZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  ii 

face,  the  liglit  in  liis  eyes  went  out,  and  he  rose  from 
his  stool  with  a  short,  dissatisfied  sigh,  which  was  re- 
peated once  or  twice  as  he  put  away  his  work  and 
arranged  his  tools.  He  made  the  rounds  of  the  work- 
shop, looked  to  the  fastenings  of  the  windows,  lighted 
a  taper,  and  then  extinguished  the  lamp.  He  threw  a 
loose  overcoat  over  his  shoulders  without  passing  his 
arms  through  the  sleeves,  and  went  out  into  the  street. 
Glancing  up  at  the  windows  of  his  house  opposite, 
he  saw  that  the  lights  were  burning  brightly,  and  he 
guessed  that  his  wife  and  daughter  were  waiting  for 
him  before  sitting  down  to  supper. 

"  Let  them  wait,"  he  muttered  with  a  surly  grin,  as 
he  put  out  the  taper  and  went  down  the  street  in  the 
opposite  direction. 

He  turned  the  street  corner  by  the  dark  Palazzo 
Antici  Mattel,  and  threaded  the  narrow  streets  towards 
the  Pantheon  and  the  Piazza  Sant'  Eustachio.  The 
weather  had  changed,  and  the  damp  south-east  wind 
was  blowing  fiercely  behind  him.  The  pavement  was 
wet  and  slippery  with  the  strange  thin  coating  of 
greasy  mud  which  sometimes  appears  suddenly  in 
Eome  even  when  it  has  not  rained.  The  insufficient 
gas  lamps  flickered  in  the  wind  as  though  they  would 
go  out,  and  the  few  pedestrians  who  hurried  along 
clung  closely  to  the  wall  as  though  it  offered  them 
gome  protection  from  the  moist  scirocco.     The  great 


CHAP.  II  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  31 

doors  of  the  palaces  were  most  of  them  closed,  but 
here  and  there  a  little  red  light  announced  a  wine- 
shop, and  as  Marzio  passed  by  he  could  see  through 
the  dirty  panes  of  glass  dark  figures  sitting  in  a  murky 
atmosphere  over  bottles  of  coarse  wine.  The  streets 
were  foul  with  the  nauseous  smell  of  decaying  vege- 
tables and  damp  walls  which  the  south-east  wind 
brings  out  of  the  older  parts  of  Eome,  and  while  few 
voices  were  heard  in  the  thick  air,  the  clatter  of  horses' 
hoofs  on  the  wet  stones  rattled  loudly  from  the 
thoroughfares  which  lead  to  the  theatres.  It  was  a 
dismal  night,  but  Marzio  Pandolfi  felt  that  his  temper 
was  in  tune  with  the  weather  as  he  tramped  along 
towards  the  Pantheon. 

The  streets  widened  as  he  neared  his  destination, 
and  he  drew  his  overcoat  more  closely  about  his  neck. 
Presently  he  reached  a  small  door  close  to  Sant'  Eus- 
tachio,  one  of  the  several  entrances  to  the  ancient 
Falcone,  an  inn  which  has  existed  for  centuries  upon 
the  same  spot,  in  the  same  house,  and  which  affords  a 
rather  singular  variety  of  accommodation.  Down  stairs, 
upon  the  square,  is  a  modern  restaurant  with  plate- 
glass  windows,  marble  floor,  Vienna  cane  chairs,  and  a 
general  appearance  of  luxury.  A  flight  of  steps  leads 
to  an  upper  story,  where  there  are  numerous  rooms  of 
every  shape  and  dimension,  furnished  with  old-fashioned 
Italian  simplicity,  though    with  considerable  cleanli- 


32  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  ii 

ness.  Thither  resort  the  large  companies  of  regular 
guests  who  have  eaten  their  meals  there  during  most  of 
their  lives.  But  there  is  much  more  room  in  the  house 
than  appears.  The  vast  kitchen  on  the  ground  floor  ter- 
minates in  a  large  space,  heavily  vaulted  and  lighted  by- 
oil  lamps,  where  rougher  tables  are  set  and  spread,  and 
where  you  may  see  the  well-to-do  wine-carter  eating 
his  supper  after  his  journey  across  the  Campagna,  in 
company  with  some  of  his  city  acquaintances  of  a 
similar  class.  In  dark  corners  huge  wine-casks  present 
their  round  dusty  faces  to  the  doubtful  light,  the  smell 
of  the  kitchen  pervades  everything,  tempered  by  the 
smell  of  wine  from  the  neighbouring  cellars ;  the  floor 
is  of  rough  stone  worn  by  generations  of  cooks,  potboys, 
and  guests.  Beyond  this  again  a  short  flight  of  steps 
leads  to  a  narrow  doorway,  passing  through  which  one 
enters  the  last  and  most  retired  chamber  of  the  huge 
inn.  Here  there  is  barely  room  for  a  dozen  persons,- 
and  when  all  the  places  are  full  the  bottles  and  dishes 
are  passed  from  the  door  by  the  guests  themselves 
over  each  other's  heads,  for  there  is  no  room  to  move 
about  in  the  narrow  space.  The  walls  are  whitewashed 
and  the  tables  are  as  plain  as  the  chairs,  but  the  food 
and  drink  that  are  consumed  there  are  the  best  that 
the  house  affords,  and  the  society,  from  the  point  of 
view  of  Marzio  Pandolfi  and  his  friends,  is  of  the 
most  agreeable. 


CHAP.  II  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  33 

The  cliiseller  took  his  favourite  seat  in  the  corner 
furthest  from  the  window.  Two  or  three  men  of 
widely  different  types  were  already  at  the  table,  and 
Marzio  exchanged  a  friendly  nod  with  each.  One  was 
a  florid  man  of  large  proportions,  dressed  in  the  height 
of  the  fashion  and  with  scrupulous  neatness.  He  was  a 
jeweller.  Another,  a  lawyer  with  a  keen  and  anxious 
face,  wore  a  tightly-buttoned  frock  coat  and  a  black 
tie.  Immense  starched  cuffs  covered  his  bony  hands 
and  part  of  his  fingers.  He  was  supping  on  a  salad, 
into  which  he  from  time  to  time  poured  an  additional 
dose  of  vinegar.  A  third  man,  with  a  round  hat  on 
one  side  of  his  head,  and  who  wore  a  very  light- 
coloured  overcoat,  displaying  a  purple  scarf  with  a 
showy  pin  at  the  neck,  held  a  newspaper  in  one  hand 
and  a  fork  in  the  other,  with  which  he  slowly  ate 
mouthfuls  of  a  ragout  of  wild  boar.  He  was  a  jour- 
nalist on  the  staff  of  an  advanced  radical  paper. 

"  Halloa,  Sor  Marzio  !"  cried  this  last  guest,  suddenly 
looking  up  from  the  sheet  he  was  reading,  "here  is 
news  of  your  brother." 

"What?"  asked  Marzio  briefly,  but  as  though  the 
matter  were  utterly  indifferent  to  him.  "  Has  he  killed 
anybody,  the  assassin  ?"  The  journalist  laughed 
hoarsely  at  the  jest. 

"  Not  so  bad  as  that,"  he  answered.  "  He  is  getting 
advancement.      They  are  going  to  make  him  a  canon 

D 


34  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  ii 

of  Santa  Maria  Maggiore.  It  is  in  the  Osservatore 
Bomano  of  this  evening." 

"  He  is  good  for  nothing  else,"  growled  Marzio. 
"  It  is  just  like  him  not  to  have  told  me  anything 
about  it." 

"  With  the  sympathy  which  exists  between  you,  I 
am  surprised,"  said  the  journalist.  "  After  all,  you 
might  convert  him,  and  then  he  would  be  useful.  He 
will  be  an  archdeacon  next,  and  then  a  bishop — who 
knows  ? — perhaps  a  cardinal !" 

"You  might  as  well  talk  of  converting  the  horses 
on  Monte  Cavallo  as  of  making  Paolo  change  his 
mind,"  replied  Pandolfi,  beginning  to  sip  the  white 
wine  he  had  ordered.  "  You  don't  know  him — he  is 
an  angel,  my  brother !  Oh,  quite  an  angel !  I  wish 
somebody  would  send  him  to  heaven,  where  he  is  so 
anxious  to  be !" 

"  Look  out,  Marzio  !"  exclaimed  the  lawyer,  glancing 
from  the  vinegar  cruet  towards  the  door  and  then  at 
his  friend. 

"  No  such  luck,"  returned  the  chiseUer.  "  Nothing 
ever  happens  to  those  black-birds.  When  we  get  as 
far  as  hanging  them,  my  dear  brother  will  happen  to 
be  in  Paris  instead  of  in  Eome.  You  might  as  well 
try  to  catch  a  street  cat  by  calling  to  it  micio,  micio  I 
as  try  and  catch  a  priest.  You  may  as  well  expect  to 
kill  a  mule    by  kicking  it  as  one  of  those  animals. 


CHAP.  II  MAEZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  35 

Burn  the  Vatican  over  their  heads  and  think  you  have 
destroyed  them  like  a  wasps'  nest,  they  will  write  you 
a  letter  from  Berlin  the  next  day  saying  that  they  are 
alive  and  well,  and  that  Prince  Bismarck  protests 
against  your  proceedings." 

"  Bravo,  Sor  Marzio  !"  cried  the  journalist.  "  I  will 
put  that  in  the  paper  to-morrow — it  is  a  fine  fulmina- 
tion.  You  always  refresh  my  ideas — why  will  you 
not  write  an  article  for  us  in  that  strain?  I  will 
publish  it  as  coming  from  a  priest  who  has  given  up 
his  orders,  married,  and  opened  a  wine-shop  in  Naples. 
What  an  effect !     Magnificent !    Do  go  on !" 

Marzio  did  not  need  a  second  invitation  to  proceed 
upon  his  favourite  topic.  He  was  soon  launched,  and 
as  the  little  room  filled,  his  pale  and  sunken  cheeks 
grew  red  with  excitement,  his  tongue  was  unloosed, 
and  he  poured  out  a  continuous  stream  of  blasphemous 
ribaldry  such  as  would  have  shocked  the  ears  of  a 
revolutionist  of  the  year  '89  or  of  a  ;p^troleuse  of  the 
nineteenth  century.  It  seemed  as  though  the  spring 
once  opened  would  never  dry.  His  eyes  flashed,  liis 
fingers  writhed  convulsively  on  the  table,  and  his 
voice  rang  out,  ironical  and  cutting,  with  strange 
intonations  that  roused  strange  feelings  in  his  hearers. 
It  was  the  old  subject,  but  he  found  something  new 
to  say  upon  it  at  each  meeting  with  his  friends,  and 
they    wondered    where    he    got    the    imagination    to 


36  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  ii 

construct    his   telling    phrases    and    specious,   virulent 
arguments. 

We  have  all  wondered  at  such  men.      They  are  the 
outcome  of  this  age  and  of  no  previous  time,  as  it  is 
also  to  be  hoped  that  their  like  may  not  arise  hereafter. 
They  are  found  everywhere,  these  agitators,  with  their 
excited  faces,  their  nervous  utterances,  and  their  furious 
hatred  of  all  that  is.    They  find  their  way  into  the  parlia- 
ments of  the  world,  into  the  dining-rooms  of  the  rich, 
into  the  wine-shops  of  the  working  men,  into  the  press 
even,  and  some  of  then*  works  are  published  by  great 
houses  and  read  by  great  ladies,  if  not  by  great  men. 
Suddenly,when  we  least  expect  it,  a  flaming  advertisement 
announces  a  fiery  tirade  against  all  that  the  great  mass  of 
mankind  hold  in  honour,  if  not  in  reverence.      Curiosity 
drives  thousands  to  read  what  is  an  insult  to  humanity, 
and  even  though  the  many  are  disgusted,  some  few 
are  found  to  admire  a  rhetoric  which  exalts  their  own 
ignorance  to  the  right  of  judging  God.      And  still  the 
few  increase  and  grow  to  be  a  root  and  send  out  shoots 
and  creepers  like  an  evil  plant,  so  that  grave  men  say 
among  themselves  that  if  there  is  to  be  a  universal 
war  in  our  times  or  hereafter  it   will  be  fought  by 
Christians  of  all  denominations  defending  themselves 
against  those  who  are  not  Christians. 

Marzio  sat  long  at  his  table,  and  his  modest  pint 
of  wine  was  enough  to  moisten  his  throat  throughout 


CHAP.  II  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  37 

the  time  during  which  he  held  forth.  When  the 
liquor  was  finished  he  rose,  took  down  his  overcoat 
from  the  peg  on  which  it  hung,  pushed  his  soft  hat 
over  his  eyes,  and  with  a  sort  of  triumphant  wave  of 
the  hand,  saluted  his  friends  and  left  the  room.  He 
was  a  perfectly  sober  man,  and  no  power  would  have 
induced  him  to  overstep  the  narrow  limit  he  allowed 
to  his  taste.  Indeed,  he  did  not  care  for  wine  itself, 
and  still  less  for  any  excitement  it  produced  in  his 
brain.  He  ordered  his  half-litre  as  a  matter  of  respect 
for  the  house,  as  he  called  it,  and  it  served  to  wet  his 
throat  while  he  was  talking.  Water  would  have  done 
as  well.  Consumed  by  the  intensity  of  his  hatred  for 
the  things  he  attacked,  he  needed  no  stimulant  to 
increase  his  exaltation. 

When  he  was  gone,  there  was  silence  in  the  room 
for  some  few  minutes.  Then  the  journalist  burst  into 
a  loud  laugh. 

"If  we  only  had  half  a  dozen  feUows  like 
that  in  the  Chambers,  all  talking  at  once !"  he 
cried. 

"  They  would  be  kicked  into  the  middle  of  Monte- 
citorio  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour,"  answered  the  thin 
voice  of  tl^c  lawyer.  "  Our  friend  Marzio  is  slightly 
mad,  but  he  is  a  good  feUow  in  theory.  In  practice 
that  sort  of  thing  must  be  dropped  into  public  life 
a  little  at  a  time,  as  one  drops  vinegar  into  a 


38  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  ohap.  ii 

on  each  leaf.  If  you  don't,  all  the  vinegar  goes  to  the 
bottom  together,  and  smells  horribly  sour." 

While  Marzio  was  holding  forth  to  his  friends,  the 
family  circle  in  the  Via  dei  Falegnami  was  enjoying  a 
very  pleasant  evening  in  his  absence.  The  Signora 
Pandolfi  presided  at  supper  in  a  costume  which  lacked 
elegance,  but  ensured  comfort — the  traditional  skirt 
and  wliite  cotton  jacket  of  the  Italian  housewife. 
Lucia  wore  the  same  kind  of  dress,  but  with  less 
direful  effects  upon  her  appearance.  Gianbattista,  as 
usual  after  working  hours,  was  arrayed  in  clothes 
of  fashionable  cut,  aiming  at  a  distant  imitation  of  the 
imaginary  but  traditional  English  tourist.  A  murder- 
ous collar  supported  his  round  young  chin,  and  a  very 
stiffly-constructed  pasteboard-lined  tie  was  adorned  by 
an  exquisite  silver  pin  of  his  own  workmanship — the 
only  artistic  thing  about  him. 

Besides  these  members  of  the  family,  there  was  a 
fourth  person  at  supper,  the  person  whom,  of  all  others, 
Marzio  detested,  Paolo  Pandolfi,  his  brother  the  priest, 
commonly  called  Don  Paolo.  He  deserves  a  word  of 
description,  for  there  was  in  his  face  a  fleeting  resem- 
blance to  Marzio,  which  might  easily  have  led  a 
stranger  to  believe  that  there  was  a  similarity  between 
their  characters.  Tall,  like  his  brother,  the  priest  was 
a  little  less  thin,  and  evidently  far  less  nervous.  The 
expression  of  his  face  was  thoughtful,  and  the  deep, 


CHAP.    II 


39 


heavily-ringed  eyes  were  like  Marzio's,  but  the  fore- 
head was  broader,  and  the  breadth  ascended  higher  in 
the  skull,  which  was  clearly  defined  by  the  short, 
closely-cropped  hair  and  the  smooth  tonsure  at  the 
back.  The  nose  was  larger  and  of  more  noble  shape, 
and  Paolo's  complexion  was  less  yellow  than  his 
brother's ;  the  features  were  not  surrounded  by  fur- 
rows or  lines,  and  the  leanness  of  the  priest's  face 
threw  them  into  relief.  The  clean  shaven  upper  lip 
showed  a  kind  and  quiet  mouth,  which  smiled  easily 
and  betrayed  a  sense  of  humour,  but  was  entirely  free 
from  any  suggestion  of  cruelty.  Don  Paolo  was 
scrupulous  of  his  appearance,  and  his  cassock  and 
mantle  were  carefully  brushed,  and  his  white  collar 
was  immaculately  clean.  His  hands  were  of  the 
student  type — white,  square  at  the  tips,  lean,  and 
somewhat  knotty. 

Marzio,  in  his  ill-humour,  had  no  doubt  flattered 
himself  that  his  family  would  wait  for  him  for  supper. 
But  his  family  had  studied  liim  and  knew  his  ways. 
When  he  was  not  punctual,  he  seldom  came  at  all, 
and  a  quarter  of  an  hour  was  considered  sufficient  to 
decide  the  matter. 

"  What  are  we  waiting  to  do  ? "  exclaimed  Maria 
Luisa,  in  the  odd  Italian  idiom.  "  Marzio  is  in  his 
humours — he  must  have  gone  to  his  friends.  Ah  1 
those  friends  of  his  ! "  she  sighed.     "  Let  us  sit  down 


40  MAEZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  ii 

to  supper,"  she  added ;  and,  from  her  tone,  the  idea  of 
supper  seemed  to  console  her  for  her  husband's  absence. 

"  Perhaps  he  guessed  that  I  was  coming,"  remarked 
Don  Paolo,  with  a  smile.  "  In  that  case  he  will  be  a 
little  nervous  with  me  when  he  comes  back.  With 
your  leave,  Maria  Luisa,"  he  added,  by  way  of  an- 
nouncing that  he  would  say  grace.  He  gave  the  short 
Latin  benediction,  during  which  Gianbattista  never 
looked  away  from  Lucia's  face.  The  boy  fancied  she 
was  never  so  beautiful  as  when  she  stood  with  her 
hands  folded  and  her  eyes  cast  down. 

"  Marzio  does  not  know  what  I  have  come  for," 
began  Don  Paolo  again,  as  they  all  sat  down  to  the 
square  table  in  the  little  room.  "  If  he  knew,  perhaps 
he  might  have  been  here — though  perhaps  he  would 
not  care  very  much  after  all.  You  all  ask  what  it  is  ? 
Yes ;  I  will  tell  you.  His  Eminence  has  obtained  for 
me  the  canonry  that  was  vacant  at  Santa  Maria  Mag- 
giore " 

At  this  announcement  everybody  sprang  up  and 
embraced  Don  Paolo,  and  overwhelmed  him  with  con- 
gratulations, reproaching  him  at  the  same  time  for 
having  kept  the  news  so  long  to  himself. 

"  Of  course,  I  shall  continue  to  work  with  the  Car- 
dinal," said  the  priest,  when  the  family  gave  him  time 
to  speak.  "  But  it  is  a  great  honour.  I  have  other 
news  for  Marzio " 


CHAP.  II  MAEZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  41 

"  I  imagiue  that  you  did  not  count  upon  the  canonry 
as  a  means  of  pleasing  him,"  remarked  the  Signora 
Pandolfi,  with  a  smile. 

"  No,  indeed,"  laughed  Lucia.  '*  Poor  papa — he 
would  rather  see  you  sent  to  be  a  curate  in  Civita 
Lavinia ! " 

"  Dear  me  !  I  fear  so/'  answered  Don  Paolo,  with 
a  shade  of  sadness.  "  But  I  have  a  commission  for 
him.  The  Cardinal  has  ordered  another  crucifix,  which 
he  desires  should  be  Marzio's  masterpiece — silver,  of 
course,  and  large.  It  must  be  altogether  the  finest 
thing  he  has  ever  made,  when  it  is  finished." 

"I  daresay  he  will  be  very  much  pleased,"  said 
Maria  Luisa,  smiling  comfortably. 

"  I  wish  he  could  make  the  figure  solid,  cast  and 
chiselled,  instead  of  repouss^!'  remarked  Gianbattista, 
whose  powerful  hands  craved  heavy  work  by  instinct. 

"  It  would  be  a  pity  to  waste  so  much  silver ;  and 
besides,  the  effects  are  never  so  light,"  said  Lucia,  who, 
like  most  artists'  daughters,  knew  something  of  her 
father's  work. 

"  What  is  a  little  silver,  more  or  less,  to  the  Car- 
dinal ? "  asked  Gianbattista,  with  a  little  scorn ;  but  as 
he  met  the  priest's  eye  his  expression  instantly  became 
grave. 

The  apprentice  was  very  young;  he  was  not  be- 
yond that  age  at  which,  to  certain  natures,  it  seems  a 


42  MAKZIO'b    CRUCIFIX  CHAP.  Ii 

fine  thing  to  Le  numbered  among  such  men  as  Marzio's 
friends.  But  at  the  same  time  he  was  not  old  enough, 
nor  independent  enough,  to  exliibit  his  feelings  on  all 
occasions.  Don  Paolo  exercised  a  dominant  influence 
in  the  Pandolfi  household.  He  had  the  advantage  of 
being  calm,  grave,  and  thoroughly  in  earnest,  not  easily 
ruffled  nor  roused  to  anger,  any  more  than  he  was 
easily  hurt.  By  character  sensitive,  he  bore  all  small 
attacks  upon  himself  with  the  equanimity  of  a  man 
who  believes  his  cause  to  be  above  the  need  of  defence 
against  little  enemies.  The  result  was  that  he  domi- 
nated his  brother's  family,  and  even  Marzio  himself 
was  not  free  from  a  certain  subjection  which  he  felt, 
and  which  was  one  of  the  most  bitter  elements  in  his 
existence.  Don  Paolo  imposed  respect  by  his  quiet 
dignity,  while  Marzio  asserted  himself  by  speaking 
loudly  and  working  liimself  voluntarily  into  a  state  of 
half-assumed  anger.  In  the  contest  between  quiet 
force  and  noisy  self-assertion  the  issue  is  never  doubt- 
ful. Marzio  lacked  real  power,  and  he  felt  it.  He 
could  command  attention  among  the  circle  of  his 
associates  who  already  sympathised  with  his  views,  but 
in  the  presence  of  Paolo  he  was  conscious  of  struggling 
against  a  superior  and  incomprehensible  obstacle, 
against  the  cool  and  unresentful  disapprobation  of  a 
man  stronger  tlian  himself.  It  Avas  many  years  since 
he   had   ventured   to   talk   before    his    brother    as    he 


CHAP.  II  MAEZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  43 

talked  when  he  was  alone  with  Gianbattista,  and  the 
latter  saw  the  change  that  came  over  his  master's 
manner  before  the  priest,  and  guessed  that  Marzio  was 
morally  afraid.  The  somewhat  scornful  allusion  to  the 
Cardinal's  supposed  wealth  certainly  did  not  constitute 
an  attack  upon  Don  Paolo,  but  Gianbattista  neverthe- 
less felt  that  he  had  said  something  rather  foolish,  and 
made  haste  to  ignore  his  words.  The  influence  could 
not  be  escaped. 

It  was  this  subtle  power  that  Marzio  resented,  for 
he  saw  that  it  was  exerted  continually,  both  upon  him- 
self and  the  members  of  his  household.  The  chiseller 
acknowledged  to  himself  that  in  a  great  emergency  his 
wife,  his  daughter,  and  even  Gianbattista  Bordogni, 
would  most  likely  follow  the  advice  of  Don  Paolo,  in 
spite  of  his  own  protests  and  arguments  to  the  contrary. 
He  fancied  that  he  himself  alone  was  a  free  agent.  He 
doubted  Gianbattista,  and  began  to  think  that  the  boy's 
character  would  turn  out  a  failure.  This  was  the 
reason  why  he  no  longer  encouraged  the  idea  of  a 
marriage  between  his  daughter  and  his  apprentice,  a 
scheme  which,  somewhat  earlier,  had  been  freely  dis- 
cussed. It  had  seemed  an  admirable  arrangement. 
The  young  man  promised  to  turn  out  a  freethinker 
after  Marzio's  own  heart,  and  showed  a  talent  for  his 
profession  which  left  nothing  to  be  desired.  Some  one 
must  be  ready  to  take  Marzio's  place  in  the  direction 


44  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  ii 

of  the  establishment,  and  no  one  could  be  better  fitted 
to  undertake  the  task  than  Gianbattista.  Lucia  would 
inherit  her  father's  money  as  the  capital  for  the  busi- 
ness, and  her  husband  should  inherit  the  workshop 
with  all  the  stock-in-trade.  Latterly,  however,  Marzio 
had  changed  his  mind,  and  the  idea  no  longer  seemed 
so  satisfactory  to  him  as  at  first.  Gianbattista  was 
evidently  falling  under  the  influence  of  Don  Paolo,  and 
that  was  a  sufficient  reason  for  breaking  off  the  match. 
Marzio  hardly  realised  that  as  far  as  his  outward 
deportment  in  the  presence  of  the  priest  was  concerned, 
the  apprentice  was  only  following  his  master's  example. 
Marzio  had  been  looking  about  him  for  another 
Ausband  for  his  daughter,  and  he  had  actually  selected 
one  from  among  his  most  intimate  friends.  His  choice 
had  fallen  upon  the  thin  lawyer — by  name  Gasparo 
Carnesecchi — who,  according  to  the  chiseller's  views, 
was  in  all  respects  a  most  excellent  match.  A  true 
freethinker,  a  practising  lawyer  with  a  considerable 
acquaintance  in  the  world  of  politics,  a  discreet  man 
not  far  from  forty  years  of  age,  it  seemed  as  though 
nothing  more  were  required  to  make  a  model  hus- 
band. Marzio  knew  very  well  that  Lucia's  dowry 
would  alone  have  sufficed  to  decide  the  lawyer  to 
marry  her,  and  an  interview  with  Carnesecchi  had 
almost  decided  the  matter.  Of  course,  he  had  not 
been  able  to  allude  to  the  affair  this  evening  at  the 


CHAP.  II  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  45 

inn,  when  so  many  others  were  present,  but  the 
preliminaries  were  nearly  settled,  and  Marzio  had 
made  up  his  mind  to  announce  his  intention  to  his 
family  at  once.  He  knew  well  enough  what  a  storm 
he  would  raise,  and,  like  many  men  who  are  always 
trying  to  seem  stronger  than  they  really  are,  he  had 
determined  to  choose  a  moment  for  making  the  dis- 
closure when  he  should  be  in  a  thoroughly  bad  humour. 
As  he  walked  homewards  from  the  old  inn  he  felt  that 
this  moment  had  arrived.  The  slimy  pavement,  the 
moist  wind  driving  through  the  streets  and  round  every 
corner,  penetrating  to  the  very  joints,  contributed  to 
make  him  feel  thoroughly  vicious  and  disagreeable; 
and  the  tirade  in  which  he  had  been  indulging  before 
his  audience  of  friends  had  loosed  his  tongue,  until  he 
was  conscious  of  being  able  to  face  any  domestic  dis- 
turbance or  opposition. 

The  little  party  had  adjourned  from  supper,  and  had 
been  sitting  for  some  time  in  the  small  room  which 
served  as  a  place  of  meeting.  Gianbattista  was 
smoking  a  cigarette,  which  he  judged  to  be  more  in 
keeping  with  his  appearance  than  a  pipe  when  he  was 
dressed  in  civilised  garments,  and  he  was  drawing  an 
elaborate  ornament  of  arabesques  upon  a  broad  sheet 
of  paper  fixed  on  a  board.  Lucia  seated  at  the  table 
was  watching  the  work,  while  Don  Paolo  sat  in  a 
straight-backed  chair,  his  white  hands  foldinl  on  his 


46  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  ii 

knee,  from  time  to  time  addressing  a  remark  to  Maria 
Luisa.  The  latter,  being  too  stout  to  recline  in  the 
deep  easy-chair  near  the  empty  fireplace,  sat  bolt 
upright,  with  her  feet  upon  the  edge  of  a  footstool, 
which  was  covered  by  a  tapestry  of  worsted-work,  dis- 
playing an  impossible  nosegay  upon  a  vivid  green  ground. 

They  had  discussed  the  priest's  canonry,  and  the 
order  for  the  crucifix.  They  had  talked  about  the 
weather.  They  had  made  some  remarks  upon  Marzio's 
probable  disposition  of  mind  when  he  should  come 
home,  and  the  conversation  was  exhausted  so  far  as 
the  two  older  members  were  concerned.  Gianbattista 
and  Lucia  conversed  in  a  low  tone,  in  short,  enigmatic 
phrases. 

"Do  you  know ?  "  said  the  apprentice. 

"  AVhat  ?  "  inquired  Lucia. 

"  I  have  spoken  of  it  to-day."  Both  glanced  at  the 
Signora  Pandolfi.  She  was  sitting  up  as  straight  as 
ever,  but  her  heavy  head  was  slowly  bending  forward. 

"  Well  ?  "  asked  the  young  girl. 

"  He  was  in  a  diabolical  humour.  He  said  I  might 
take  you  away."  Gianbattista  smiled  as  he  spoke,  and 
looked  into  Lucia's  eyes.  She  returned  his  gaze  rather 
sadly,  and  only  shook  her  head  and  shrugged  her 
shoulders  for  a  reply. 

"If  we  took  him  at  his  word,"  suggested  Gian- 
battista. 


CHAP.  II  MARZIO'S    CKCCIFIX  47 

"  Just  SO — it  would  be  a  fine  affair ! "  exclaimed 
Lucia  ironically. 

"  After  all,  lie  said  so,"  argued  the  young  man. 
"  What  does  it  matter  whether  he  meant  it  ? " 

"  Things  are  going  badly  for  us,"  sighed  his  com- 
panion. "  It  was  different  a  year  ago.  You  must 
have  done  something  to  displease  him,  Tista.  I  wish 
I  knew  !  "  Her  dark  eyes  suddenly  assumed  an  angry 
expression,  and  she  drew  in  her  red  lips. 

"  Wish  you  knew  what  ?  "  inquired  the  apprentice, 
in  a  colder  tone. 

"  Why  he  does  not  think  about  it  as  he  used  to. 
He  never  made  any  objections  until  lately.  It  was 
almost  settled." 

Gianbattista  glanced  significantly  at  Don  Paolo, 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  went  on  drawing. 

"  What  has  that  to  do  with  it  ? "  asked  Lucia  im- 
patiently. 

"  It  is  enough  for  your  father  that  it  would  please 
his  brother.  He  would  hate  a  dog  that  Don  Paolo 
liked." 

"  What  nonsense ! "  exclaimed  the  girl.  "  It  is 
something  else.  Papa  sees  something — something 
that  I  do  not  see.  He  knows  his  own  affairs,  and 
perhaps  he  knows  yours  too,  Tista.  I  have  not  for- 
gotten the  other  evening." 

"  I ! "  ejaculated  the  young  man,  looking  up  angrily. 


48  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  ii 

"  You  know  very  well  where  I  was — at  the  Circolo 
Artistico.      How  do  you  dare  to  think " 

"  Why  are  you  so  angry  if  there  is  no  one  else  in 
the  case  ? "  asked  Lucia,  with  a  sudden  sweetness, 
which  belied  the  jealous  glitter  in  her  eyes. 

"It  seems  to  me  that  I  have  a  right  to  be  angry. 
That  you  should  suspect  me  after  all  these  years ! 
How  many  times  have  I  sworn  to  you  that  I  went 
nowhere  else  ? " 

"  What  is  the  use  of  your  swearing  ?  You  do  not 
believe  in  anything — why  should  you  swear  ?  Why 
should  I  believe  you  ?  " 

''Oh — if  you  talk  like  that,  I  have  finished!" 
answered  Gianbattista.  "But  there — you  are  only 
teasing  me.  You  believe  me,  just  as  I  believe  you. 
Besides,  as  for  swearing  and  believing  in  something 
besides  you — who  knows  ?  1  love  you — is  not  that 
enough  ? " 

Lucia's  eyes  softened  as  they  rested  on  the  young 
man's  face.  She  knew  he  loved  her.  She  only 
wanted  to  be  told  so  once  more. 

"  There  is  Marzio/'  said  Don  Paolo,  as  a  key  rattled 
in  the  latch  of  the  outer  door. 

"  At  this  hour ! "  exclaimed  the  Signora  Pandolfi, 
suddenly  waking  up  and  rubbing  her  eyes  with  her 
fat  fingers. 


CHAPTEK    III 

Marzio,  having  divested  himself  of  his  heavy  coat  and 
hat,  appeared  at  the  door  of  the  sitting-room. 

Everybody  looked  at  him,  as  though  to  discern  the 
signs  of  his  temper,  and  no  one  was  perceptibly  re- 
assured by  the  sight  of  his  white  face  and  frowning 
forehead. 

"  Well,  most  reverend  canon,"  he  began,  addressing 
Don  Paolo,  "I  am  in  time  to  congratulate  you,  it 
seems.  It  was  natural  that  I  should  be  the  last  to 
hear  of  your  advancement,  through  the  papers." 

"  Thank  you,"  answered  Don  Paolo  quietly.  "  I 
came  to  tell  you  the  news." 

"You  are  very  considerate,"  returned  Marzio.  "I 
have  news  also ;  for  you  all."  He  paused  a  moment, 
as  though  to  give  greater  effect  to  the  statement  he 
was  about  to  make.  "I  refer,"  he  continued  very 
slowly,  "  to  the  question  of  Lucia's  marriage." 

"  Indeed  ! "  exclaimed  the  priest.  "  I  am  glad  if  it 
is  to  be  arranged  at  last." 

The  other  persons  in  the  room  held  their  breath. 
E 


50  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  CHAP,  ill 

The  young  girl  blushed  deeply  under  her  ^Yhite  skin, 
and  Gianbattista  grew  pale  as  he  laid  aside  his  pencil 
and  shaded  his  eyes  with  his  hands.  The  Signora 
Pandolfi  panted  with  excitement  and  trembled  visibly 
as  she  looked  at  her  husband.  His  dark  figure  stood 
out  strongly  from  the  background  of  the  shabby  blue 
wall  paper,  and  the  petroleum  lamp  cast  deep  shadows 
in  the  hollows  of  his  face. 

"Yes,"  he  continued,  "I  talked  yesterday  with 
Gasparo  Garnesecchi — you  know,  he  is  the  lawyer  I 
always  consult.  He  is  a  clever  fellow  and  understands 
these  matters.  We  talked  of  the  contract ;  I  thought 
it  better  to  consult  him,  you  see,  and  he  thinks  the 
affair  can  be  arranged  in  a  couple  of  weeks.  He  is  so 
intelligent.  A  marvel  of  astuteness ;  we  discussed 
the  whole  matter,  I  say,  and  it  is  to  be  concluded  as 
soon  as  possible.      So  now,  my  children " 

Gianbattista  and  Lucia,  seated  side  by  side  at  the 
table,  were  looking  into  each  other's  eyes,  and  as 
Marzio  fixed  his  gaze  upon  them,  their  hands  joined 
upon  the  drawing-board,  and  an  expression  of  happy 
surprise  overspread  their  faces.  Marzio  smiled  too, 
as  he  paused  before  completing  the  sentence. 

"  So  that  now,  my  children,"  he  continued,  speak- 
ing very  slowly,  "you  may  as  well  leave  each 
other's  hands  and  have  done  with  all  this  non- 
sense." 


CHAP.  Ill  MAEZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  51 

The  lovers  looked  up  suddenly  with  a  puzzled  air, 
supposing  that  Marzio  was  jesting. 

"  I  am  in  earnest/'  he  went  on.  "  You  see,  Tista, 
that  it  will  not  be  proper  for  you  to  sit  and  hold 
Lucia's  hand  when  she  is  called  Signora  Carnesecchi, 
so  you  may  as  well  get  used  to  it." 

For  a  moment  there  was  a  dead  silence  in  the  room. 
Then  Lucia  and  Gianbattista  both  sprang  to  their  feet. 

*'  What ! "  screamed  the  young  girl  in  an  agony  of 
terror.    ''•  Carnesecchi !  what  do  you  mean  ? " 

"  Infame  !  Wretch  !  "  shouted  Gianbattista,  beside 
himself  with  rage  as  he  sprang  forward  to  grasp 
Marzio  in  his  hands. 

But  the  priest  had  risen  too,  and  placed  himself 
between  the  young  man  and  Marzio  to  prevent  any 
struo-ole.  "  No  violence ! "  he  cried  in  a  tone  that 
dominated  the  angry  voices  and  the  hysterical  weeping 
of  Maria  Luisa,  who  sat  rocking  herself  in  her  chair. 
Gianbattista  stepped  back  and  leaned  against  the  wall, 
choking  with  anger.  Lucia  fell  back  into  her  seat  and 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 

"  Violence  ?  Who  wants  violence  ?  "  asked  Marzio 
in  contemptuous  tones.  "  Do  you  suppose  I  am  afraid 
of  Tista  ?  Let  him  alone,  Paolo ;  let  us  see  whether 
he  will  strike  me." 

The  priest  now  turned  his  back  on  the  apprentice, 
and   confronted  Marzio.      He   was   not   pale  like  the 


52  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  hi 

rest,  for  he  was  not  afraid  of  the  chiseller,  and  the 
generous  flush  of  a  righteous  indignation  mounted  to 
his  cahn  face. 

"  You  are  mad,"  he  said,  meeting  his  brother's  gaze 
fearlessly. 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  returned  Marzio.  "  Lucia  shall 
marry  Gasparo  Carnesecchi  at  once,  or  she  shall  not 
marry  any  one ;  what  am  I  saying  ?  She  shall  have 
no  choice.  She  must  and  she  shall  marry  the  man  I 
have  chosen.  What  have  you  to  do  with  it  ?  Have 
you  come  here  to  put  yourself  between  me  and  my 
family  ?  I  advise  you  to  be  careful  The  law  pro- 
tects me  from  such  interference,  and  fellows  of  your 
cloth  are  not  very  popular  at  present." 

"  The  law,"  answered  the  priest,  controlling  his  wrath, 
"  protects  children  against  their  parents.  The  law  which 
you  invoke  provides  that  a  father  shall  not  force  his 
daughter  to  marry  against  her  will,  and  I  believe  that 
considerable  penalties  are  incurred  in  such  cases." 

"  What  do  you  know  of  law,  except  how  to  elude 
it  ?  "  inquired  Marzio  defiantly. 

Not  half  an  hour  had  elapsed  since  he  had  been 
haranguing  the  admiring  company  of  his  friends,  and 
his  words  came  easily.  Moreover,  it  was  a  long  time 
since  he  had  broken  through  the  constraint  he  felt  in 
Don  Paolo's  presence,  and  the  opportunity  having 
presented  itself  was  not  to  be  lost. 


CHAP.  Ill  MAKZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  53 

"  Who  are  you  that  should  teach  me  ?  "  he  repeated, 
raising  his  voice  to  a  strained  key  and  gesticulating 
fiercely.  "  You,  your  very  existence  is  a  lie,  and  you 
are  the  server  of  lies,  and  you  and  your  fellow  liars 
would  have  created  them  if  they  didn't  already  exist, 
you  love  them  so.  You  live  by  a  fraud,  and  you  want 
to  drag  everybody  into  the  comedy  you  play  every 
day  in  your  churches,  everybody  who  is  fool  enough 
to  drop  a  coin  into  your  greedy  palm  !  What  right 
have  you  to  talk  to  men  ?  Do  you  work  ?  Do  you 
buy  ?  Do  you  sell  ?  You  are  worse  than  those  fine 
gentlemen  who  do  nothing  because  their  fathers  stole 
our  money,  for  you  live  by  stealing  it  yourselves ! 
And  you  set  yourselves  up  as  judges  over  an  honest 
man  to  tell  him  what  he  is  to  do  with  his  daughter  ? 
You  fool,  you  thing  in  petticoats,  you  deceiver  of 
women,  you  charlatan,  you  mountebank,  go  !  Go  and 
perform  your  antics  before  your  altars,  and  leave  hard- 
working men  like  me  to  manage  their  families  as  they 
can,  and  to  marry  their  daughters  to  whom  they 
wiU !  •' 

Marzio  had  rolled  off  his  string  of  invective  in  such 
a  tonCj  and  so  rapidly,  that  it  had  been  impossible  to 
interrupt  him.  The  two  women  were  sobbing  bitterly. 
Gianbattista,  pale  and  breathing  hard,  looked  as  though 
he  would  throttle  Marzio  if  he  could  reach  him,  and 
Don  Paolo  faced  the  angry  artist,  with  reddening  fore- 


54  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  CHAP.  Ill 

head,  folding  his  arms  aud  straining  his  muscles  to 
control  himself.  When  Marzio  paused  for  breath,  the 
priest  answered  him  with  an  effort. 

"  You  may  insult  me  if  it  pleases  you,"  he  said,  "  it 
is  nothing  to  me.  I  cannot  prevent  your  uttering 
your  senseless  blasphemies.  I  speak  to  you  of  the 
matter  in  hand.  I  tell  you  simply  that  in  treating 
these  two,  who  love  each  other,  as  you  are  treating 
them,  you  are  doing  a  thing  unworthy  of  a  man. 
Moreover,  the  law  protects  your  daughter,  and  I  will 
see  that  the  law  does  its  duty." 

"  Oh,  to  think  that  I  should  have  such  a  monster 
for  a  husband,"  groaned  the  fat  Signora  Pandolfi,  still 
rocking  herself  in  her  chair,  and  hardly  able  to  speak 
throuq-h  her  sobs. 

"You  will  do  a  bad  day's  work  for  yourself  and 
your  art  when  you  try  to  separate  us,"  said  Gianbattista 
between  his  teeth. 

Marzio  laughed  hoarsely,  and  turned  his  back  on 
the  rest,  beginning  to  fill  his  pipe  at  the  chimney- 
piece.  Don  Paolo  heard  the  apprentice's  words,  and 
understood  their  meaning.  He  went  and  laid  his 
hand  on  the  young  man's  shoulder. 

"Do  not  let  us  have  any  threats,  Tista,"  he  said 
quietly.  "  Sor  Marzio  will  never  do  this  thing — 
believe  me,  he  cannot  if  he  would." 

"  Go  on,"  cried  Marzio,  striking  a  match.     "  Go  on 


CHAP.  Ill  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  55 

— SOW  the  seeds  of  discord,  teach  them  all  to  disobey 
me.      I  am  listening,  my  dear  Paolo." 

"  All  the  better,  if  you  are,"  answered  the  priest, 
"  for  I  assure  you  I  am  in  earnest.  You  will  have 
time  to  consider  this  thing.  I  have  a  matter  of  busi- 
ness with  you,  Marzio.  That  is  what  I  came  for  this 
evening.      If  you  have  done,  we  will  speak  of  it." 

"  Business  ? "  exclaimed  Marzio  in  loud  ironical 
tones.  "  This  is  a  good  time  for  talking  of  business — 
as  good  as  any  other  I    What  is  it  ?  " 

"  The  Cardinal  wants  another  piece  of  work  done,  a 
very  fine  piece  of  work." 

"  The  Cardinal?  I  will  not  make  any  more  chalices 
for  your  cardinals.  I  am  sick  of  chalices,  and  mon- 
strances, and  such  stuff." 

"  It  is  none  of  those,"  answered  Don  Paolo  quietly. 
"  The  Cardinal  wants  a  magnificent  silver  crucifix. 
Will  you  undertake  it  ?  It  must  be  your  greatest 
work,  if  you  do  it  at  aU." 

"  A  crucifix  ? "  repeated  Marzio,  in  a  changed  tone. 
The  angry  gleam  faded  from  his  eyes,  and  a  dreamy 
look  came  into  them  as  he  let  the  heavy  lids  droop  a 
little,  and  remained  silent,  apparently  lost  in  thought. 
The  women  ceased  sobbinsr,  and  watched  his  altered 
face,  while  Gianbattista  sank  down  into  a  chair  and 
absently  fingered  the  pencil  that  had  fallen  across  the 
drawing-board. 


5  6  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  CHAP.  Ill 

"  Will  you  do  it  ? "  asked  Don  Paolo,  at  last. 

"  A  crucifix,"  mused  the  artist.  "  Yes,  I  will  make 
a  crucifix.  I  have  made  many,  but  I  have  never  made 
one  to  my  mind.  Yes,  tell  the  Cardinal  that  I  will 
make  it  for  him,  if  he  will  give  me  time." 

"  I  do  not  think  he  will  need  it  in  less  than  three 
or  four  months,"  answered  Don  Paolo. 

"  Four  months — that  is  not  a  long  time  for  such  a 
work.      But  I  will  try." 

Thereupon  Marzio,  whose  manner  had  completely 
changed,  puffed  at  his  pipe  until  it  burned  freely,  and 
then  approached  the  table,  glancing  at  Gianbattista 
and  Lucia  as  though  nothing  had  happened.  He  drew 
the  drawing-board  which  the  apprentice  had  been 
using  towards  him,  and,  taking  the  pencil  from  the 
hand  of  the  young  man,  began  sketching  heads  on  one 
corner  of  the  paper. 

Don  Paolo  looked  at  him  gravely.  After  the  words 
Marzio  had  spoken,  it  had  gone  against  the  priest's 
nature  to  communicate  to  him  the  commission  for  the 
sacred  object.  He  had  hesitated  a  moment,  asking 
himself  whether  it  was  right  that  such  a  man  should 
be  allowed  to  do  such  work.  Then  the  urgency  of  the 
situation,  and  his  knowledge  of  his  brother's  character, 
had  told  him  that  the  diversion  might  avert  some 
worse  catastrophe,  and  he  had  quickly  made  up  his 
mind.      Even  now  he   asked  himself  whether  he  had 


CHAP.  Ill  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  57 

done  right.  It  was  a  question  of  theology,  which  it 
v>ould  liave  taken  long  to  analyse,  and  Don  Paolo  had 
other  matters  to  think  of  in  the  present,  so  he  dis- 
missed it  from  his  mind.  He  wanted  to  be  gone,  and 
he  only  stayed  a  few  minutes  to  see  whether  Marzio's 
mind  would  change  again.  He  knew  his  brother  well, 
and  he  was  sure  that  no  violence  was  to  be  feared  from 
him,  except  in  his  speech.  Such  scenes  as  he  had  just 
witnessed  were  not  uncommon  in  the  Pandolfi  house- 
hold, and  Don  Paolo  did-  not  believe  that  any  conse- 
quence was  to  be  expected  after  he  had  left  the  house. 
He  only  felt  that  Marzio  had  been  more  than  usually 
unreasonable,  and  that  the  artist  could  not  possibly 
mean  seriously  what  he  had  proposed  that  evening. 

The  priest  did  not  indeed  think  that  Gianbattista 
was  altogether  good  enough  for  Lucia.  The  boy  was 
occasionally  a  little  wild  in  his  speech,  and  though  he 
was  too  much  in  awe  of  Don  Paolo  to  repeat  before 
him  any  of  the  opinions  he  had  learned  from  his 
master,  his  manner  showed  occasionally  that  he  was 
inclined  to  take  the  side  of  the  latter  in  most  questions 
that  arose.  But  the  habit  of  controlling  his  feelings 
in  order  not  to  offend  the  man  of  the  church,  and 
especially  in  order  not  to  hurt  Lucia's  sensitive  nature, 
had  begun  gradually  to  change  and  modify  the  young 
man's  character.  From  having  been  a  devoted  admirer 
of  Marzio's   ijolitical   creed  and  extreme  free  thouoht. 


5  8  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  CHAP.  Ill 

Giaiibattista  liad  fallen  into  the  way  of  asking  ques- 
tions of  the  cliiseller,  to  see  how  he  would  answer 
them ;  and  the  answers  had  not  always  satisfied  him. 
Side  by  side  with  his  increasing  skill  in  his  art,  which 
led  him  to  compare  himself  with  his  teacher,  there 
had  grown  up  in  the  apprentice  the  habit  of  compar- 
ing himself  with  Marzio  from  the  intellectual  point  of 
view  as  well  as  from  the  artistic.  The  comparison 
did  not  appear  to  him  advantageous  to  the  elder  man, 
as  he  discovered,  in  his  way  of  thinking,  a  lack  of 
looic  on  the  one  hand,  and  a  love  of  frantic  exag- 
geration  on  the  other,  which  tended  to  throw  a  doubt 
upon  the  whole  system  of  ideas  which  had  produced 
these  defects.  The  result  was  that  the  young  man's 
mental  position  was  unbalanced,  and  he  was  inclined 
to  return  to  a  more  normal  condition  of  thought.  Don 
Paolo  did  not  know  all  this,  but  he  saw  that  Gianbat- 
tista  had  grown  more  quiet  during  the  last  year,  and 
he  hoped  that  his  marriage  with  Lucia  would  complete 
the  change.  To  see  her  thrown  into  the  arms  of  a 
man  like  Gasparo  Carnesecchi  was  more  than  the 
priest's  affection  for  his  niece  could  bear.  He  hardly 
believed  that  Marzio  would  seriously  think  again  of 
the  scheme,  and  he  entertained  a  hope  that  the  sub- 
ject w^ould  not  even  be  broached  for  some  time  to 
come. 

Marzio   continued   to   draw  in   silence,  and  after  a 


CHAP.  Ill  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  59 

few  luiiiutes,  Don  Paolo  rose  to  take  his  leave.      The 
chiseller  did  not  look  up  from  his  pencil. 

"Good-night,  Marzio — let  it  be  a  good  piece  of 
work,"  said  Paolo. 

"  Good-night,"  growled  the  artist,  his  eyes  still  fixed 
on  the  paper.  His  brother  saluted  the  rest  arid  left 
the  room  to  go  home  to  his  lonely  lodgings  at  the  top 
of  an  old  palace,  in  the  first  floor  of  which  dwelt  the 
Cardinal,  whom  he  served  as  secretary.  When  he  was 
gone,  Lucia  rose  silently  and  went  to  her  room,  leaving 
her  father  and  mother  with  Gianbattista.  The  Signora 
Pandolfi  hesitated  as  to  whether  she  should  follow  her 
daughter  or  stay  with  the  two  men.  Her  woman's 
nature  feared  further  trouble,  and  visions  of  drawn 
knives  rose  before  her  swollen  eyes,  so  that,  after 
making  as  though  she  would  rise  twice,  she  finally 
remained  in  her  seat,  her  fat  hands  resting  idly  upon 
her  knees,  staring  at  her  husband  and  Gianbattista. 
The  latter  sat  gloomily  watching  the  paper  on  which 
his  master  was  drawing. 

"  Marzio,  you  do  not  mean  it  ? "  said  Maria  Luisa, 
after  a  long  interval  of  silence.  The  good  woman  did 
not  possess  the  gift  of  tact. 

"  Do  you  not  see  that  I  have  an  idea  ?  "  asked  her 
husband  crossly,  by  way  of  an  answer,  as  he  bent  his 
head  over  his  work. 

"  I   beg   your   pardon,"  said  the  Signora  Pandolfi,  in 


6  0  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  CHAP,  iii 

a  humble  tone,  looking  piteously  at  Gianbattista.  The 
apprentice  shook  his  head,  as  though  he  meant  that 
nothing  could  be  done  for  the  present.  Then  she  rose 
slowly,  and  with  a  word  of  good-night  as  she  turned 
to  the  door,  she  left  the  room.  The  two  men  were 
alone. 

"  ISTow  that  nobody  hears  us,  Sor  Marzio,  what  do 
you  mean  to  do  ?  "  asked  Gianbattista  in  a  low  voice. 
Marzio  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  What  I  told  you,"  he  answered,  after  a  few  seconds. 
"  Do  you  suppose  that  rascally  priest  of  a  brother  has 
made  me  change  my  mind  ? " 

"  No,  I  did  not  expect  that,  but  I  am  not  a  priest ; 
nor  am  I  a  boy  to  be  turned  round  your  fingers  and 
put  off  in  this  way — sent  to  the  wash  like  dirty  linen. 
You  must  answer  to  me  for  what  you  said  this  evening." 

"  Oh,  I  will  answer  as  much  as  you  please,"  replied 
the  artist,  with  an  evil  smile. 

"  Very  well.  Why  do  you  want  to  turn  me  out, 
after  promising  for  years  that  I  should  marry  Lucia 
with  your  full  consent  when  she  was  old  enough  ? " 

"  Why  ?  because  you  have  turned  yourself  out,  to 
begin  with.  Secondly,  because  Carnesecchi  is  a  better 
match  for  my  daughter  than  a  beggarly  chiseller. 
Thirdly,  because  I  please ;  and  fourthly,  because  I  do 
not  care  a  fig  whether  you  like  it  or  not.  Are  those 
reasons  sufficient  or  not  ?  " 


CHAP.  Ill  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  61 

"  They  may  satisfy  you,"  answered  Gianbattista. 
"  They  leave  something  to  be  desired  in  the  way  of 
logic,  in  my  humble  opinion." 

"  Since  I  have  told  you  that  I  do  not  care  for  your 
opinion " 

"  I  will  probably  find  means  to  make  you  care  for 
it,"  retorted  the  young  man.  "  Don  Paolo  is  quite 
right,  in  the  first  place,  when  he  tells  you  that  the 
thing  is  simply  impossible.  Fathers  do  not  compel 
their  daughters  to  marry  in  this  century.  Will  you 
do  me  the  favour  to  explain  your  first  remark  a  little 
more  clearly  ?  You  said  I  had  turned  myself  out — 
how  ? " 

"  You  have  changed,  Tista,"  said  Marzio,  leaning 
back  to  sharpen  his  pencil,  and  staring  at  the  wall. 
"  You  change  every  day.  You  are  not  at  all  what 
you  used  to  be,  and  you  know  it.  You  are  going 
back  to  the  priests.  You  fawn  on  my  brother  like 
a  dog." 

"  You  are  joking,"  answered  the  apprentice.  "  Of 
course  I  would  not  want  to  make  trouble  in  your 
house  by  quarrelling  with  Don  Paolo,  even  if  I  disliked 
him.  I  do  not  dislike  him.  This  evening  he  showed 
that  he  is  a  much  better  man  than  you." 

"  Dear  Gianbattista,"  returned  Marzio  in  sour  tones, 
"  every  word  you  say  convinces  me  that  I  have  done 
right.      Besides,  I  am  busy — you  see — you  disturb  my 


62  MAKZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  in 

ideas.  If  you  do  not  like  my  house,  you  can  leave  it. 
I  will  not  keep  you.  I  daresay  I  can  educate  another 
artist  before  I  die.  You  are  really  only  fit  to  swing  a 
censer  behind  Paolo,  or  at  the  heels  of  some  such 
animal." 

"Perhaps  it  would  be  better  to  do  that  than  to 
serve  the  mass  you  sing  over  your  work-bench  every 
day,"  said  Gianbattista.  "  You  are  going  too  far,  Sor 
Marzio.  One  may  trifle  with  women  and  their  feel- 
ings.    You  had  better  not  attempt  it  with  men." 

"  Such  as  you,  and  Paolo  ?  There  was  once  a  mule 
in  the  Pescheria  Yecchia;  when  he  got  half-way 
through  he  did  not  like  the  smell  of  the  fish,  and  he 
said  to  his  leader,  '  I  will  turn  back.'  The  driver 
pulled  him  along.  Then  said  the  mule,  '  Do  not  trifle 
with  me.  I  will  turn  round  and  kick  you.'  But 
there  is  not  room  for  a  mule  to  turn  round  in  the 
Pescheria  Vecchia.  The  mule  found  it  out,  and  fol- 
lowed the  man  through  the  fish  market  after  all.  I 
hope  that  is  clear  ?     It  means  that  you  are  a  fool." 

"  What  is  the  use  of  bandying  words  ? "  cried  the 
apprentice  angrily.  "I  will  offer  you  a  bargain,  Sor 
Marzio.  I  will  give  you  your  choice.  Either  I  will 
leave  the  house,  and  in  that  case  I  will  carry  off 
Lucia  and  marry  her  in  spite  of  you.  Or  else  I  will 
stay  here — but  if  Lucia  marries  any  one  else,  I  will 
cut  your  throat.      Is  that  a  fair  bargain  ?" 


CHAP.  Ill  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  63 

"  Perfectly  fair,  though  I  cannot  see  wherein  the 
bargain  consists,"  answered  Marzio,  with  a  rough  laugh. 
"  I  prefer  that  you  should  stay  here.  I  will  run  the 
risk  of  being  murdered  by  you,  any  day,  and  you  may 
run  the  risk  of  being  sent  to  the  galleys  for  life,  if  you 
choose.  You  will  be  well  cared  for  there,  and  you  can 
try  your  chisel  on  paving-stones  for  a  change  from 
silver  chalices." 

"Never  mind  what  becomes  of  me  afterwards,  in 
that  case,"  said  the  young  man.  "  If  Lucia  is  married 
to  some  one  else,  I  do  not  care  what  happens.  So  you 
have  got  your  warning  ! " 

"  Thank  you.  If  you  had  remained  what  you  used 
to  be,  you  might  have  married  her  without  further 
difficulty.  But  to  have  you  and  Lucia  and  Maria 
Luisa  and  Paolo  all  conspiring  against  me  from  morn- 
ing till  night  is  more  than  I  can  bear.  Good-night, 
and  the  devil  be  with  you,  you  fool ! " 

"  Et  cum  spiritu  tuo"  answered  Gianbattista  as  he 
left  the  room. 

When  Marzio  was  alone  he  returned  to  the  head  he 
was  drawing — a  head  of  wonderful  beauty,  inclined 
downwards  and  towards  one  side,  bearing  a  crown  of 
thorns,  the  eyelids  drooped  and  shaded  in  death.  He 
glanced  at  it  with  a  bitter  smile  and  threw  aside  the 
pencil  without  making  another  stroke  upon  the  paper. 

He  leaned  back,  lighted  another  pipe,  and  began  to 


64  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  hi 

reflect  upon  the  events  of  the  evening.  He  was  glad 
it  was  over,  for  a  strange  weakness  in  his  violent 
nature  made  it  hard  for  him  to  face  such  scenes  unless 
he  were  thoroughly  roused.  Now,  however,  he  was 
satisfied.  For  a  long  time  he  had  seen  with  growing 
distrust  the  change  in  Gianbattista's  manner,  and  in 
the  last  words  he  had  spoken  to  the  apprentice  he  had 
uttered  what  was  really  in  his  heart.  He  was  afraid 
of  being  altogether  overwhelmed  by  the  majority 
against  him  in  his  own  house.  He  hated  Paolo  with 
his  whole  soul,  and  he  had  hated  him  all  his  life.  This 
calm,  obliging  brother  of  his  stood  between  him  and  all 
peace  of  mind.  It  was  not  the  least  of  his  grievances 
that  he  received  most  of  his  commissions  through  the 
priest  who  was  constantly  in  relation  with  the  cardinal 
and  rich  prelates  who  were  the  patrons  of  his  art.  The 
sense  of  obligation  which  he  felt  was  often  almost 
unbearable,  and  he  longed  to  throw  it  off.  The  man 
whom  he  hated  for  his  own  sake  and  despised  for  his 
connection  with  the  church,  was  daily  in  his  house ;  at 
every  turn  he  met  with  Paolo's  tacit  disapprobation  or 
outspoken  resistance.  For  a  long  time  Paolo  had 
doubted  whether  the  marriage  between  the  two  young 
people  would  turn  out  well,  and  while  he  expressed  his 
doubts  Marzio  had  remained  stubborn  in  his  deter- 
mination. Latterly,  and  doubtless  owing  to  the 
change  in  Gianbattista's  character,  Paolo  had  always 


CHAP.  Ill  MAKZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  65 

spoken  of  the  marriage  with  favour.  This  sufficed  at 
first  to  rouse  Marzio's  suspicions,  and  ultimately  led 
to  his  opposing  with  all  his  might  what  he  had  so 
long  and  so  vigorously  defended ;  he  resolved  to  be 
done  with  what  he  considered  a  sort  of  slavery,  and  at 
one  stroke  to  free  himself  from  his  brother's  influence, 
and  to  assure  Lucia's  future.  During  several  weeks  he 
had  planned  the  scene  which  had  taken  place  that 
evening,  waiting  for  his  opportunity,  trying  to  make 
sure  of  being  strong  enough  to  make  it  effective,  and 
revolving  the  probable  answers  he  might  expect  from 
the  different  persons  concerned.  It  had  come,  and  he 
was  satisfied  with  the  result. 

Marzio  Pandolfi's  intelligence  lacked  logic.  In  its 
place  he  possessed  furious  enthusiasm,  an  exaggerated 
estimate  of  the  value  of  his  social  doctrines,  and  a 
whole  vocabulary  of  terms  by  which  to  describe  the 
ideal  state  after  which  he  hankered.  But  though  he 
did  not  possess  a  logic  of  his  own,  his  life  was  itself 
the  logical  result  of  the  circumstances  he  had  created. 
As,  in  the  diagram  called  the  parallelogram  of  forces, 
various  conflicting  powers  are  seen  to  act  at  a  point, 
producing  an  inevitable  resultant  in  a  fixed  line,  so  in 
the  plan  of  Marzio's  life,  a  number  of  different  tend- 
encies all  acted  at  a  centre,  in  his  over -strained 
intelligence,  and  continued  to  push  him  in  a  direction 
he  had  not   expected   to   follow,  and  of  which   even 

F 


G6  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  hi 

now  lie  was   far  from  suspecting  the  ultimate  termi- 
nation. 

He  had  never  loved  his  brother,  but  he  had  loved 
liis  wife  with  all  his  heart.  He  had  begun  to  love 
Lucia  when  she  was  a  child.  He  had  felt  a  sort  of 
admiring  fondness  for  Gianbattista  Bordogni,  and  a 
decided  pride  in  the  progress  and  the  talent  of  the 
apprentice.  By  degrees,  as  the  prime  mover,  his 
hatred  for  Paolo,  gained  force,  it  had  absorbed  his 
affection  for  Maria  Luisa,  who,  after  eighteen  years  of 
irreproachable  wifehood,  seemed  to  Marzio  to  be  no- 
thing better  than  an  accomplice  and  a  spy  of  his 
brother's  in  the  domestic  warfare.  N"ext,  the  lingerin^r 
love  for  his  child  had  been  eaten  up  in  the  same  way, 
and  Marzio  said  to  himself  that  the  girl  had  joined  the 
enemy,  and  was  no  longer  worthy  of  his  confidence. 
Lastly,  the  change  in  Gianbattista's  character  and 
ideas  seemed  to  destroy  the  last  link  which  bound 
the  chiseller  to  his  family.  Henceforth,  his  hand  was 
against  each  one  of  his  household,  and  he  fancied  that 
they  were  all  banded  together  against  himself. 

Every  step  had  followed  as  the  inevitable  conse- 
quence of  what  had  gone  before.  The  brooding  and 
suspicious  nature  of  the  artist  had  persisted  in  seeing 
in  each  change  in  himself  the  blackest  treachery  in 
those  who  surrounded  him.  His  wife  was  an  im- 
placable enemy,  his   daughter  a  spy,  his  apprentice  a 


CHAP.  Ill  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  67 

traitor,  find  as  for  Paolo  liimself,  Marzio  considered 
him  the  blackest  of  villains.  For  all  this  cliam  of 
hatreds  led  backwards,  and  was  concentrated  with  ten- 
fold virulence  in  his  great  hatred  for  his  brother. 
Paolo,  in  his  estimation,  was  the  author  of  all  the 
evil,  the  sole  ultimate  cause  of  domestic  discord,  the 
arch  enemy  of  the  future,  the  representative,  in 
j\iarzio's  sweeping  condemnation,  not  only  of  the 
church  and  of  religion,  but  of  that  whole  fabric  of 
existing  society  which  the  chiseller  longed  to  tear 
down. 

Marzio's  socialism,  for  so  he  called  it,  had  one  good 
feature.  It  was  sincere  of  its  kind,  and  disinterested. 
He  was  not  of  the  common  herd,  a  lazy  vagabond,  in- 
capable of  continuous  work,  or  of  perseverance  in  any 
productive  occupation,  desiring  only  to  be  enriched  by 
impoverishing  others,  one  of  the  endless  rank  and  file 
of  Italian  republicans,  to  whom  the  word  "  republic  " 
means  nothing  but  bread  without  work,  and  the  liberty 
which  consists  in  howling  blasphemies  by  day  and 
night  in  the  public  streets.  His  position  was  as  differ- 
ent from  that  of  a  private  in  the  blackguard  battalion 
as  his  artistic  gifts  and  his  industry  were  superior  to 
those  of  the  throng.  He  had  money,  he  had  talent, 
and  he  had  been  very  successful  in  his  occupation. 
He  had  nothing  to  gain  by  the  revolutions  he  dreamed 
of,  and  he  might  lose  much  by  any  upsetting  of  the 


68  MAEZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  hi 

existing  laws  of  property.  He  was,  therefore,  perfectly 
sincere,  so  far  as  his  convictions  went,  and  disinterested 
to  a  remarkable  degree.  These  conditions  are  often 
found  in  the  social  position  of  the  true  fanatic,  who  is 
the  more  ready  to  run  to  the  greatest  length,  because  he 
entertains  no  desire  to  better  his  own  state.  Marzio's 
real  weakness  lay  in  the  limited  scope  of  his  views, 
and  in  a  certain  timid  prudence  which  destroyed  his 
power  of  initiative.  He  was  an  economical  man,  who 
distrusted  the  future ;  and  though  such  a  disposition 
produces  a  good  effect  in  causing  a  man  to  save  money 
against  the  day  of  misfortune,  it  is  incompatible  with 
the  career  of  the  true  enthusiast,  who  must  be  ready 
to  risk  everything  at  any  moment.  The  man  who 
would  move  other  men,  and  begin  great  changes,  must 
have  an  enormous  belief  in  himself,  an  unbounded 
confidence  in  his  cause,  and  a  large  faith  in  the  future, 
amounting  to  the  absolute  scorn  of  consequence. 

These  greater  qualities  Marzio  did  not  possess,  and 
through  lack  of  them  the  stupendous  results  of  which 
he  was  fond  of  talking  had  diminished  to  a  series  of 
domestic  quarrels,  in  which  he  was  not  always  victori- 
ous. His  hatred  of  the  church  was  practically  reduced 
to  the  detestation  of  his  brother,  and  to  an  unreasoning 
jealousy  of  his  brother's  influence  in  his  home.  His 
horror  of  social  distinctions,  which  speculated  freely 
upon  the  destruction  of  the   monarchy,   amounted  in 


CHAP.  Ill  MAKZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  69 

practice  to  nothing  more  offensive  than  a  somewhat 
studious  rudeness  towards  the  few  strangers  of  high 
position  who  from  time  to  time  visited  the  workshop  in 
the  Via  dei  Falegnami.  In  the  back  room  of  his  inn, 
Marzio  could  find  loud  and  cutting  words  in  which  to 
denounce  the  Government,  the  monarchy,  the  church, 
and  the  superiority  of  the  aristocracy.  In  real  fact, 
Marzio  took  off  his  hat  when  he  met  the  king  in  the 
street,  paid  his  taxes  with  a  laudable  regularity,  and 
increased  the  small  fortune  he  had  saved  by  selling 
sacred  vessels  to  the  priests  against  whom  he  inveighed. 
Instead  of  burning  the  Vatican  and  hanging  the  Col- 
lege of  Cardinals  to  the  pillars  of  the  Colonnade, 
Marzio  Pandolfi  felt  a  very  unpleasant  sense  of  con- 
straint in  the  presence  of  the  only  priest  with  whom 
he  ever  conversed,  his  brother  Paolo.  When,  on  very 
rare  occasions,  he  broke  out  into  angry  invective,  and 
ventured  to  heap  abuse  upon  the  calm  individual  who 
excited  his  wrath,  he  soon  experienced  the  counter- 
shock  in  the  shape  of  a  strong  conviction  that  he  had 
injured  his  position  rather  than  bettered  it,  and  the 
melancholy  conclusion  forced  itself  upon  him  that  by 
abusing  Paolo  he  himself  lost  influence  in  his  own 
house,  and  not  unfrequently  called  forth  the  contempt 
af  those  he  had  sought  to  terrify. 

The  position  was  galling  in  the  extreme ;  for,  like 
nany  artists  who  are  really  remarkable  in  their  pro- 


70  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  CHAP,  iii 

fessioii,  ]\iarzio  was  very  vain  of  his  intellectual  superi- 
ority in  otlier  brandies.  It  may  be  a  question  whether 
vanity  is  not  essential  to  any  one  who  is  forced  to 
compete  in  excellence  with  other  gifted  men.  Vanity 
means  emptiness,  and  in  the  case  of  the  artist  it  means 
that  emptiness  which  craves  to  be  filled  with  praise. 
The  artist  may  doubt  his  own  work,  but  he  is  bitterly 
disappointed  if  other  people  doubt  it  also.  Marzio 
had  his  full  share  of  this  kind  of  vanity,  which,  as  in 
most  cases,  extended  beyond  the  sphere  of  his  art. 
How  often  does  one  hear  two  or  three  painters  or 
sculptors  who  are  gathered  together  in  a  studio,  laying 
down  the  law  concerning  Government,  society,  and  the 
distribution  of  wealth.  And  yet,  though  they  make 
excellent  statues  and  paint  wonderful  pictures,  there 
are  very  few  instances  on  record  of  artists  having 
borne  any  important  part  in  the  political  history  of 
their  times.  Not  from  any  want  of  a  desire  to  do  so, 
in  many  cases,  but  from  the  real  want  of  the  power ; 
and  yet  many  of  them  believe  themselves  far  more 
able  to  solve  political  and  social  questions  than  the 
men  who  represent  them  in  the  Parliament  of  their 
country,  or  the  persons  who  by  innate  superiority  of 
tact  have  made  themselves  the  arbiters  of  society. 

Marzio's  vanity  suffered  terribly,  for  he  realised  the 
wide  difference  that  existed  between  his  aims  and  the 
result  actually  produced.      For  this  reason  he  had  de- 


cuAP.  HI  MAKZIO'S    CKUCIFIX  7l 

tcrmined  to  bring  matters  to  a  point  of  contention  in 
his  household,  in  order  to  assert  once  and  for  all  the 
despotic  authority  which  he  believed  to  be  his  right. 
He  knew  well  enough  that  in  proposing  the  marriage 
of  Lucia  with  Carnesecchi,  he  had  hit  upon  a  plan 
which  Paolo  would  oppose  with  all  his  might.  It 
seemed  as  though  he  could  not  have  selected  a  ques- 
tion more  certain  to  produce  a  hot  contention.  He 
had  brought  forward  his  proposal  boldly,  and  had  not 
hesitated  to  make  a  most  virulent  personal  attack  on 
his  brother  when  the  latter  had  shown  signs  of  opposi- 
tion. And  yet,  as  he  sat  over  his  drawing  board, 
staring  at  the  clouds  of  smoke  that  rose  from  his  pipe, 
he  was  unpleasantly  conscious  that  he  had  not  been 
altogether  victorious,  that  he  had  not  played  the  part 
of  the  despot  to  the  end,  as  he  had  intended  to  do, 
that  he  had  suddenly  felt  his  inferiority  to  Paolo's 
calmness,  and  that  upon  hearing  of  the  proposition 
concerning^  the  crucifix  he  had  acted  as  thousjh  he  had 
received  a  bribe  to  be  quiet.  He  bit  his  thin  lips  as 
he  reflected  that  all  the  family  must  have  supposed 
his  silence  from  that  moment  to  have  been  the  effect 
of  the  important  commission  which  Paolo  had  com- 
municated to  him ;  for  it  seemed  impossible  that  they 
should  understand  the  current  of  his  thoughts. 

As  he  glanced  at  the  head  he  had  drawn  he  under- 
stood himself  better  than  others  had  understood  him, 


72  MAKZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  CHAP.  IH 

for  he  saw  on  the  corner  of  the  paper  the  masterly 
sketch  of  an  ideal  Christ  he  had  sought  after  for  years 
without  ever  reaching  it.  He  knew  that  that  ideal 
had  presented  itself  to  his  mind  at  the  very  moment 
when  Paolo  had  proposed  the  work  to  him — the  result 
perhaps,  of  the  excitement  under  which  he  laboured  at 
the  moment.  From  that  instant  he  had  been  able  to 
think  of  notliing.  He  had  been  unpelled  to  draw, 
and  the  expression  of  his  thought  had  driven  every- 
thing else  out  of  his  mind.  Paolo  had  gained  a 
fancied  victory  by  means  of  a  fancied  bribe.  Marzio 
determined  to  revenge  himself  for  the  unfair  advantage 
his  brother  had  then  taken,  by  showing  himself  in- 
flexible in  his  resolution  concerning  the  marriage.  It 
was  but  a  small  satisfaction  to  have  braved  Gian- 
battista's  boyish  threats,  after  having  seemed  to  accept 
the  bribe  of  a  priest. 


CHAPTEK  IV 

On  the  following  morning,  Marzio  left  the  house 
earlier  than  usual.  Gianbattista  had  not  finished 
his  black  coffee,  and  was  not  in  a  humour  to  make 
advances  to  his  master,  after  the  scene  of  the 
previous  evening.  So  he  did  not  move  from  the 
table  when  the  chiseller  left  the  room,  nor  did  he 
make  any  remark  upon  the  hour.  The  door  that  led 
to  the  stairs  had  hardly  closed  after  Marzio,  when 
Lucia  put  her  head  into  the  room  where  Gianbattista 
was  seated. 

"  He  is  gone,"  said  the  young  man ;  "  come  in,  we 
can  talk  a  few  minutes." 

"  Tista,"  began  Lucia,  coming  forward  and  laying 
her  fingers  on  his  curly  hair,  "  what  did  all  that  mean 
last  night  ?     Have  you  understood  ?" 

"  Who  understands  that  lunatic  1 "  exclaimed  Gian- 
battista, passing  his  arm  round  the  girl's  waist,  and 
drawing  her  to  him.  "  I  only  understand  one  thing, 
we  must  be  married  as  soon  as  possible  and  be  done 
with  it.     Is  it  not  true,  Lucia  ?  " 


74  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap.  iV 

"  I  hope  so,"  answered  his  companion,  with  a  blush 
and  a  sigh.      "  But  I  am  so  much  afraid." 

"Do  not  be  afraid,  leave  it  all  to  me,  I  will  protect 
you,  my  darling,"  replied  the  young  man,  tapping  his 
breast  with  the  ready  gesture  of  an  Italian,  as  though 
to  prove  his  courage. 

"  Oh,  I  am  sure  of  that !  But  how  can  it  be 
managed  ?  Of  course  he  cannot  force  me  to  marry 
Carnesecchi,  as  Uncle  Paolo  explained  to  him.  But 
he  will  try,  and  he  is  so  bad  ! " 

"  Let  him  try,  let  him  try,"  repeated  Gianbattista. 
"  I  made  a  bargain  with  him  last  night  after  you  had 
gone  to  bed.  Do  you  know  what  I  told  him  ?  I 
told  him  that  I  would  stay  with  him,  but  that  if  you 
married  any  one  but  me,  I  would  cut  his  throat — Sor 
Marzio's  throat,  do  you  understand  ? " 

"  Oh,  Tista  !"  cried  Lucia.  "  How  did  you  ever  have 
the  courage  to  tell  him  such  a  thing  ?  Besides,  you 
know,  you  woiiLl  not  do  it,  would  you  ? " 

"  Do  not  trouble  yourself,  he  saw  I  was  in  earnest, 
and  he  will  tliink  twice  about  it.  Besides,  he  said 
yesterday  that  I  might  have  you  if  I  would  take  you 
away." 

"  A  nice  thing  for  a  father  to  say  of  his  daughter  ! " 
exclaimed  the  girl  angrily.  "  And  what  did  you 
answer  him  then,  my  love  ? " 

"  Oh  !  I  said  that  I  had  not  the  slightest  objection  to 


CHAP.    IV 


MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  75 


the  proceeding.  And  then  he  tried  to  prove  to  me 
that  we  should  starve  without  him,  and  then  he  swore 
at  me  like  a  Turk.  What  did  it  matter  ?  He  said  I 
was  changed.  By  Diana !  Any  man  would  change, 
just  for  the  sake  of  not  being  like  him  ! " 

"  How  do  you  mean  that  you  are  changed,  dear  ? " 
asked  Lucia  anxiously. 

"  "Who  knows  ?  He  said  I  fawned  on  Don  Paolo 
like  a  dog,  instead  of  hating  the  priests  as  I  used  to 
do.      What  do  you  think,  love  ? " 

"  I  think  Uncle  Paolo  would  laugh  at  the  idea," 
answered  the  girl,  smiling  herself,  but  rather  sadly. 
"  I  am  afraid  you  are  as  bad  as  ever,  in  that  way." 

"  I  am  not  bad,  Lucia.  I  begin  to  think  I  like 
Don  Paolo.  He  was  splendid  last  night.  Did  you 
see  how  he  stared  your  father  out  of  countenance,  and 
then  turned  him  into  a  lamb  with  the  order  for  the 
crucifix  ?  Don  Paolo  has  a  much  stronger  will  than 
Sor  Marzio,  and  a  great  deal  more  sense.  He  will 
make  your  father  change  his  mind." 

"  Of  course  it  would  be  for  the  better  if  we  could 
be  married  without  any  objection,  and  I  am  very  glad 
you  are  growing  fond  of  Uncle  Paolo.  But  I  have 
seen  it  for  some  time.      He  is  so  good  ! " 

"  Yes.  That  is  the  truth,"  answered  Gianbattista 
in  meditative  tone.  "  He  is  too  good.  It  is  not 
natural.      And  then  he  has   a  way  of  making  me  feel 


76  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  CHAP,  iv 

it.  Now,  I  would  have  strangled  Sor  Marzio  last 
night  if  your  uncle  had  not  been  there,  but  he  pre- 
vented me.  Of  course  he  was  right.  Those  people 
always  are.  But  one  hates  to  be  set  right  by  a  priest. 
It  is  humiliating  ! " 

"  Well,  it  is  better  than  not  to  be  set  right  at  all," 
said    Lucia.       "  You  see,   if  you  had    strangled   poor 
papa,    it    would    have    been    dreadful!        Oh,    Tista, 
promise   me  that  you  will  not  do  anything  violent! 
Of  course  he  is  very  unkind,  I  know.      But  it  would 
be  terrible  if  you  were  to   be  angry   and   hurt   him. 
You  will  not,  Tista  ?      Tell  me  you  will  not  ? " 
"  We  shall  see  ;  we  shall  see,  my  love  ! " 
"  You  do  not  love  me  if  you  will  not  promise." 
"  Oh,  if  that  is  all,  my  love,  I  will  promise  never 
to  lay  a  finger  on  him  until  you  are  actually  married 

to    some    one  else.       But    then "       Gianbattista 

made  the  gesture  which  means  driving  the  knife  into 
an  enemy. 

"  Then  you  may  do  anything  you  please,"  answered 
Lucia,  with  a  laugh.  "  He  will  never  make  me  marry 
any  one  but  you.      You  know  that,  my  heart  1 " 

"  In  that  case  we  ought  to  be  married  very  soon," 
argued  the  young  man.  "  We  need  not  live  here,  you 
know.  Indeed,  it  w^ould  be  out  of  the  question.  We 
will  take  one  of  those  pretty  little  places  in  the  new 
quarter -" 


CHAP.    IV 


MAEZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  77 


"  That  is  so  far  away,"  interrupted  the  girl. 

"Yes,  but  there  is  the  tramway,  and  there  are 
omnibuses.      It  only  takes  a  quarter  of  an  hour." 

"  But  you  would  be  so  far  from  me  all  day,  my 
love.  I  could  not  run  into  the  studio  at  all  hours, 
and  you  would  not  come  home  for  dinner.  Oh !  I 
could  not  bear  it ! " 

"Very  well,  we  will  try  and  find  something  near 
here,"  said  Gianbattista,  yielding  the  point.  "We 
will  get  a  little  apartment  near  the  Minerva,  where 
there  is  sun." 

"  And  we  will  have  a  terrace  on  the  top  of  the 
house,  with  pots  of  carnations." 

"  And  red  curtains  on  rings,  that  we  can  draw ;  it 
is  such  a  pretty  light  when  the  sun  shines  through 
them." 

"And  green  wall  paper  with  blue  furniture,"  sug- 
gested Lucia.     "  It  is  so  gay." 

"  Or  perhaps  the  furniture  of  the  same  colour  as  the 
paper — you  know  they  have  it  so  in  aU  fashionable 
houses." 

"Well,  if  it  is  really  the  fashion,  I  suppose  we 
must,"  assented  the  girl  rather  regretfully. 

"  Yes,  it  is  the  fashion,  my  heart,  and  you  must 
have  everything  in  the  fashion.  But  I  must  be  going," 
ridded  the  young  man,  rising  from  his  seat. 

"  Already  ?     It  is  early,  Tista "  she  hesitated 


78  MARZIOS    CRUCIFIX  ohap.  iv 

"  Dear  Tista,"  she  began  again,  her  dark  eyes  resting 
anxiously  on  his  face,  "  what  will  you  say  to  him  in 
the  workshop  ?  You  will  tell  him  that  I  would 
rather  die  than  marry  Carnesecchi,  that  we  are  sol- 
emnly promised,  that  nothing  shall  part  us !  You 
will  make  him  see  reason,  Tista,  will  you  not  ?  I 
cannot  go  to  him,  or  I  would ;  and  mamma,  poor 
mamma,  is  so  afraid  of  him  when  he  is  in  his  humours. 
There  are  only  you  and  Uncle  Paolo  to  manage  him ; 
and  after  the  way  he  insulted  Uncle  Paolo  last  night, 
it  will  be  all  the  harder.  Think  of  it,  Tista,  while 
you  are  at  work,  and  bring  me  word  when  you  come 
to  dinner." 

"  Never  fear,  love,"  replied  Gianbattista  confidently  ; 
"  what  else  should  I  think  of  while  I  am  hammering 
away  all  day  ?      A  little  kiss,  to  give  me  courage." 

In  a  moment  he  was  gone,  and  his  quick  step 
resounded  on  the  stairs  as  he  ran  down,  leaving  Lucia 
at  the  door  above,  to  catch  the  last  good-bye  he  called 
up  to  her  when  he  reached  the  bottom.  His  fresh 
voice  came  up  to  her  mingled  with  the  rattle  of  the 
lumbering  carts  in  the  street.  She  answered  the  cry 
and  went  in. 

Just  then  the  sleepy  Signora  Pandolfi  emerged  from 
her  chamber,  clad  in  the  inevitable  skirt  and  white 
cotton  jacket,  her  heavy  black  hair  coiled  in  an  irre- 
gular mass  on  the  top  of  her  head,  and  lield  in  place 


CHAP.  IV  MAEZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  79 

by  liair-pins  that  seemed  to  be  on  the  point  of  dropping 
out. 

"  Ah,  Lucia,  my  darling !  Such  a  night  as  I  have 
passed  ! "  she  moaned,  sinking  into  a  chair  beside  the 
table,  on  which  the  coffee-pot  and  the  empty  cups  were 
still  standing.  "  Such  a  night,  my  dear  !  I  have  not 
closed  an  eye.  I  am  sure  it  is  the  last  judgment ! 
And  this  scirocco,  too,  it  is  enough  to  kill  one ! " 

"  Courage,  mamma,"  answered  Lucia  gaily.  "  Things 
are  never  so  bad  as  they  seem." 

"  Oh,  that  monster,  that  monster  ! "  groaned  the  fat 
lady.  "  He  would  make  an  angel  lose  his  patience ! 
Imagine,  my  dear,  he  insists  that  you  shall  be  married 
in  a  fortnight,  and  he  has  left  me  money  to  go  and 
buy  things  for  your  outfit !  Oh  dear  !  What  are  we 
to  do  ?  I  shall  go  mad,  my  dear,  and  you  will  aU 
have  to  take  me  to  Santo  Spirito  !  Oh  dear  1  Oh 
dear  !      This  scirocco  !  " 

"  I  think  papa  will  go  mad  first,"  said  Lucia.  "  I 
never  heard  of  such  an  insane  proposition  in  my  life. 
All  in  a  moment  too — I  think  I  am  to  marry  Tista — 
papa  gets  into  a  rage  and — patatunfate  !  a  new  hus- 
band— like  a  conjuror's  trick,  such  a  comedy  I  I 
expected  to  see  the  door  open  at  every  minute, 
Pulcinella  walk  in  and  beat  everybody  with  a 
blown  bladder !  But  Uncle  Paolo  did  quite  as 
weU." 


80  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  iv 

"  Oh,  my  head  !  "  complained  the  Signora  PandolfL 
"  I  have  not  slept  a  wink  !  " 

"And  then  it  was  shameful  to  see  the  way  papa 
grew  quiet  and  submissive  when  Uncle  Paolo  gave  him 
the  order  for  the  crucifix  !  If  it  had  been  anybody 
but  papa,  I  should  have  said  that  a  miracle  had  been 
performed.  But  poor  papa  1  No — the  miracle  of  the 
soldi — that  is  the  truth.  I  would  like  to  catch  sight 
of  the  saint  who  could  work  a  miracle  on  papa ! 
Capers,  what  a  saint  he  would  have  to  be ! " 

"  Bacchus  ! "  ejaculated  Maria  Luisa,  "  San  Filippo 
ISTeri  would  be  nowhere  !  The  Holy  Father  would 
have  to  make  a  saint  on  purpose  to  convert  that 
monster !  A  saint  who  should  have  nothing  else  to 
do.  Oh,  how  hot  it  is  !  My  head  is  splitting.  What 
are  we  to  do,  Lucia,  my  heart  ?  Tell  me  a  little  what 
we  are  to  do — two  poor  women — all  alone — oh 
dear ! " 

"In  the  first  place,  it  needs  courage,  mamma," 
answered  Lucia,  "  and  a  cup  of  coffee.  It  is  still  hot, 
and  you  have  not  had  any " 

"Coffee!  Who  thinks  of  coffee?"  cried  the  Sig- 
nora Pandolfi,  taking  the  cup  from  her  daughter's 
hands,  and  drinking  the  liquid  with  more  calmness 
than  might  have  been  anticipated. 

"That  is  right,"  continued  the  girl.  "Drink, 
mamma,  it  will  do  you  good.     And  then,  and  then — 


CHAP.  IT  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  81 

let  nie  see.      And  then   you  must  talk  to   Suntarella 
about  the  dinner.      That  old  woman  has  no  head " 

*'  Dinner  !  "  cried  the  mother,  "  who  thinks  of  dinner 
at  such  a  time  ?  And  he  left  me  the  money  for  the 
outfit,  too  !  Lucia,  my  love,  I  have  the  fever — I  will 
go  to  bed." 

"  Eh  !  What  do  you  suppose  ?  That  is  a  way  out 
of  all  difficulties,"  answered  Lucia  philosophically. 

"  But  you  cannot  go  out  alone " 

"  I  will  stay  at  home  in  that  case." 

"  And  then  he  will  come  to  dinner,  and  ask  to  see 
the  things " 

"  There  will  be  no  things  to  show  him,"  returned 
the  young  girl. 

"  Well  ?  And  then  where  should  we  be  ?  "  inquired 
the  Signora  Pandolfi.  "  I  see  him,  my  husband,  com- 
ing back  and  finding  that  nothing  has  been  done  !  He 
would  tear  his  hair  !  He  would  kill  us  !  He  would 
bring  his  broomstick  of  a  lawyer  here  to  marry  you 
this  very  afternoon,  and  what  should  we  have  gained 
then  ?  It  needs  judgment,  Lucia,  my  heart — ^judgment, 
judgment ! "  repeated  the  fat  lady,  tapping  her  fore- 
head. 

"  Eh  !  If  you  have  not  enough  for  two,  mamma,  I 
do  not  know  what  we  shall  do." 

"At  the  same  time,  something  must  be  done," 
mused  Maria  Luisa.      "  My  head  is  positively  bursting ! 

G 


82  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  iv 

We  might  go  out  and  buy  half  a  dozen  handkerchiefs, 
just  to  show  him  that  we  have  begun.  Do  you  think 
a  few  handkerchiefs  would  quiet  him,  my  love  ?  You 
could  always  use  them  afterwards — a  dozen  would  be 
too  many " 

"  Bacchus  !  "  exclaimed  Lucia,  "  I  have  only  one 
nose." 

"  It  is  a  pity,"  answered  her  mother  rather  irrele- 
vantly. "After  all,  handkerchiefs  are  the  cheapest 
things,  and  if  we  spread  them  out,  all  six,  on  the  green 
sofa,  they  will  make  a  certain  effect  — these  men ! 
One  must  deceive  them,  my  child." 

"  Suppose  we  did  another  thing,"  began  Lucia,  look- 
ing out  of  the  window.  "  We  might  get  some  things 
— in  earnest,  good  things.  They  will  always  do  for 
the  wedding  with  Tista.  Meanwhile,  papa  will  of 
course  have  to  change  his  mind,  and  then  it  will  be 
all  right." 

"  What  genius  !  "  cried  the  Signora  Pandolfi.  "  Oh, 
Lucia  !  You  have  found  it !  And  then  we  can  just 
step  into  the  workshop  on  our  way — that  will  reassure 
your  father." 

"Perhaps,  after  all,  it  would  be  better  to  go  and 
tell  him  the  truth,"  said  Lucia,  beginning  to  walk 
slowly  up  and  down  the  room.  "  He  must  know  it, 
sooner  or  later." 

"  Are    you    mad,   Lucia  ? "    exclaimed  her    mother, 


CHAP.  IV  MAEZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  83 

holding  up  her  hands  in  horror.  "  Just  think  liow  he 
would  act  if  you  went  and  faced  him ! " 

"  Then  why  not  go  and  find  Uncle  Paolo  ? "  sug- 
gested the  girl.  "  He  will  know  what  is  best  to  be 
done,  and  will  help  us,  you  may  be  sure.  Of  course, 
he  expected  to  see  us  before  anything  was  done  in  the 
matter.  But  I  am  not  afraid  to  face  papa  all  alone. 
Besides,  Tista  is  talking  to  him  at  this  very  minute. 
I  told  him  all  he  was  to  say,  and  he  has  so  much 
courage  I " 

"  I  wish  I  had  as  much,"  moaned  the  Signora  Pan- 
dolfi,  lapsing  into  hesitation. 

"  Come,  mamma,  I  will  decide  for  you,"  said  Lucia. 
"We  will  go  and  find  Uncle  Paolo,  and  we  will  do 
exactly  as  he  advises." 

"  After  all,  that  is  best,"  assented  her  mother,  rising 
slowly  from  her  seat. 

Half  an  hour  later  they  left  the  house  upon  their 
errand,  but  they  did  not  enter  the  workshop  on  their 
way.  Indeed,  if  they  had,  they  would  have  been  sur- 
prised to  find  that  Marzio  was  not  there,  and  that 
Gianbattista  was  consequently  not  talking  to  him  as 
Lucia  had  supposed. 

When  Gianbattista  reached  the  workshop,  he  was 
told  that  Marzio  had  only  remained  five  minutes,  and 
had  gone  away  so  soon  as  everybody  was  at  work.  He 
hesitated  a  moment,  wondering  whether  he  might  not 


84  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  iv 

go  home  again  and  spend  another  hour  in  Lucia's  com- 
pany; but  it  was  not  possible  to  foretell  whether  Marzio 
would  be  absent  during  the  whole  morning,  and  Gian- 
battista  decided  to  remain.  Moreover,  the  peculiar 
smell  of  the  studio  brought  with  it  the  idea  of  work, 
and  with  the  idea  came  the  love  of  the  art,  not  equal, 
perhaps,  to  the  love  of  the  woman  but  more  familiar 
from  the  force  of  habit. 

All  men  feel  such  impressions,  and  most  of  all  those 
who  follow  a  fixed  calling,  and  are  accustomed  to  do 
their  work  in  a  certain  place  every  day.  Theophile 
Gautier  confessed  in  his  latter  days  that  he  could  not 
work  except  in  the  office  of  the  Moniteur — elsewhere, 
he  said,  he  missed  the  smell  of  the  printers'  ink,  which 
brought  him  ideas.  Artists  know  well  the  effect  of  the 
atmosphere  of  the  studio.  Five  minutes  of  that  paint- 
laden  air  suffice  to  make  the  outer  world  a  mere  dream, 
and  to  recall  the  reality  of  work.  There  was  an  old 
dressing-gown  to  which  Thackeray  was  attached  as  to 
a  friend,  and  which  he  believed  indispensable  to  com- 
position. Balzac  had  his  oval  writing-room,  when  he 
grew  rich,  and  the  creamy  white  colour  of  the  tapestries 
played  a  great  part  in  his  thoughts.  The  blacksmith 
loves  the  smoke  of  the  forge  and  the  fumes  of  hot  iron 
on  the  anvil,  and  the  chiseller's  fingers  burn  to  handle 
the  tools  that  are  strewn  on  the  wooden  bench. 

Gianbattista  stood  at  the  door  of  the  studio,  and  had 


CHAP.  IV  MAEZIO'S   CRUCIPIX  85 

he  been  master  instead  of  apprentice,  he  could  not  have 
resisted  the  desire  to  go  to  his  place  and  take  up  the 
work  he  had  left  on  the  previous  evening.  In  a  few 
minutes  he  was  hammering  away  as  busily  as  though 
there  were  no  such  thing  as  marriage  in  the  world,  and 
nothing  worth  living  for  but  the  chiselling  of  beautiful 
arabesques  on  a  silver  ewer.  His  head  was  bent  over 
his  hands,  liis  eyes  followed  intently  the  smallest 
movements  of  the  tool  he  held,  he  forgot  everything 
else,  and  became  wholly  absorbed  in  his  occupation. 

Nevertheless,  much  of  a  chiseller  s  work  is  mechani- 
cal, and  as  the  smooth  iron  ran  in  and  out  of  the  tiny 
curves  under  the  gentle  tap  of  the  hammer,  the  young 
man's  thoughts  went  back  to  the  girl  he  had  left  at 
the  top  of  the  stairs  a  quarter  of  an  hour  earlier ; 
he  thought  of  her,  as  he  did  daily,  as  his  promised 
wife,  and  he  fell  to  wondering  when  it  would  be,  and 
how  it  would  be.  They  often  talked  of  the  place  in 
which  they  would  live,  as  they  had  done  that  morning  ; 
and  as  neither  of  them  was  very  imaginative,  there 
was  a  considerable  similarity  between  the  speculations 
they  indulged  in  at  one  time  and  at  another.  It  was 
always  to  be  a  snug  home,  high  up,  with  a  terrace,  pots 
of  carnations,  and  red  curtains.  Their  only  difference 
of  opinion  concerned  the  colour  of  the  walls  and  furni- 
ture. Like  most  Italians,  they  had  very  little  sense  of 
colour,  and  thought  only  of  having  everything  gay,  as 


86  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  CHAP,  nr 

they  called  it ;  that  is  to  say,  the  upholstery  was  to  bb 
chosen  of  the  most  vivid  hues,  probably  of  those  hor- 
rible tints  known  as  aniline.  Italians,  as  a  rule,  and 
especially  those  who  belong  to  the  same  class  as  the 
Pandolfi  family,  have  a  strong  dislike  for  the  darker 
and  softer  tones.  To  them  anything  which  is  not  vivid 
is  sad,  melancholy,  and  depressing  to  the  senses. 
Gianbattista  saw  in  his  mind's  eye  a  little  apartment 
after  his  own  heart,  and  was  happy  in  the  idea.  But, 
as  he  followed  the  train  of  thought,  it  led  him  to  the 
comparison  of  the  home  to  which  he  proposed  to  take 
his  wife  with  the  one  in  which  they  now  lived  under 
her  father's  roof,  and  suddenly  the  scene  of  the  previous 
evening  rose  clearly  in  the  young  man's  imagination. 
He  dropped  his  hammer,  and  stared  up  at  the  grated 
windows. 

He  went  over  the  whole  incident,  and  perhaps  for 
the  first  time  realised  its  true  importance,  and  all  the 
danger  there  might  be  in  the  future  should  Marzio 
attempt  to  pursue  his  plan  to  the  end.  Gianbattista 
had  only  once  seen  the  lawyer  who  was  thus  suddenly 
thrust  into  his  place.  He  remembered  a  thin,  cadaver- 
ous man,  in  a  long  and  gloomy  black  coat,  but  that 
was  all.  He  did  not  recall  his  voice,  nor  the  expres- 
sion of  his  face;  he  had  only  seen  him  once,  and  had 
thought  little  enough  of  the  meeting.  It  seemed  alto- 
gether impossible,  and  beyond  the  bounds  of  anything 


CHAP.   IV 


MAKZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  87 


rational,  that  this  stranger  should  ever  really  be  brought 
forward  to  be  Lucia's  husband. 

For  a  moment  the  wliole  thing  looked  like  an  evil 
dream,  and  Gianbattista  smiled  as  he  looked  down 
again  at  his  work.  Then  the  reality  of  the  occurrence 
rose  up  again  and  confronted  him  stubbornly.  He  was 
not  mistaken,  Marzio  had  actually  pronounced  those 
words,  and  Don  Paolo  had  sprung  forward  to  prevent 
Gianbattista  from  attacking  his  master  then  and  there. 
The  young  man  looked  at  his  work,  holding  his  tools 
in  liis  hands,  but  hesitating  to  lay  the  point  of  the 
chisel  on  the  silver,  as  he  hesitated  to  believe  the 
evidence  of  his  memory. 


CHAPTEE   V 

Maezio  had  risen  early  that  morning,  as  has  been 
said,  and  had  left  the  house  before  any  one  but 
Gianbattista  was  up.  He  was  in  reality  far  from 
inclined  to  drink  his  coffee  in  the  company  of  his 
apprentice,  and  would  have  avoided  it,  if  possible. 
Nor  did  he  care  to  meet  Lucia  until  he  had  found 
time  and  occasion  to  refresh  his  anger.  His  wife  was 
too  sleepy  to  quarrel,  and  hardly  seemed  to  under- 
stand him  when  he  gave  her  money  and  bade  her 
look  to  Lucia's  outfit,  adding  that  the  wedding  was  to 
take  place  immediately. 

"  Will  you  not  let  me  sleep  in  peace,  even  in  the 
morning  ?"  she  groaned. 

"  Magari !  I  wish  you  would  sleep,  and  for  ever  t " 
growled  Marzio,  as  he  left  the  room. 

He  drank  his  coffee  in  silence,  and  went  out.  After 
looking  into  the  workshop  he  walked  slowly  away  in 
the  direction  of  the  Capitol.  The  damp  morning  air 
was  pleasant  to  him,  and  the  gloomy  streets  through 
which  he  passed  were  agreeable  to  his  state  of  feeling. 


CHAP.  V  MAKZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  89 

He  wished  Eome  might  always  wear  such  a  dismal  veil 
of  dampness,  scirocco,  and  cloud. 

A  man  in  a  bad  humour  will  go  out  of  his  way  to 
be  rained  upon  and  blown  against  by  the  weather.  We 
would  all  like  to  change  our  surroundings  with  our 
moods,  to  fill  the  world  with  sunshine  when  we  are 
happy,  and  with  clouds  when  we  have  stumbled  in  the 
labyrinths  of  life.  Lovers  wish  that  the  whole  earth 
might  be  one  garden,  crossed  and  recrossed  by  silent 
moon-lit  paths ;  and  when  love  has  taken  the  one  and 
left  the  other,  he  who  stays  behind  would  have  his 
garden  changed  to  an  angry  ocean,  and  the  sweet  moss 
banks  to  storm-beaten  rocks,  that  he  may  drown  in  the 
depths,  or  be  dashed  to  pieces  by  the  waves,  before  he 
has  had  time  to  know  all  that  he  has  lost. 

As  we  grow  older,  life  becomes  the  expression  of  a 
mood,  according  to  the  way  we  have  lived.  He  who 
seeks  peace  will  find  that  with  advancing  age  the 
peaceful  moment,  that  once  came  so  seldom,  returns 
more  readily,  and  that  at  last  the  moments  unite  to 
make  hours,  and  the  hours  to  build  up  days  and  years. 
He  who  stoops  to  petty  strife  will  find  that  the  oft- 
recurring  quarrel  has  power  to  perpetuate  the  discon- 
tented weakness  out  of  which  it  springs,  and  that  it 
can  make  all  life  a  hell.  He  who  rejoices  in  action 
will  learn  that  activity  becomes  a  habit,  and  at  last  ex- 
cludes the  possibihty  of  rest,  and  the  desire  for  it ;  and 


90  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap.  V 

his  lot  is  the  best,  for  the  momentary  gladness  in  a 
great  deed  well  done  is  worth  a  millennium  of  sinless, 
nerveless  tranquillity.  The  positive  good  is  as  much 
better  than  the  negative  "  non-bad,"  as  it  is  better  to 
save  a  life  than  not  to  destroy  a  life.  But  whatever 
temper  of  mind  we  choose  will  surely  become  chronic 
in  time,  and  will  be  known  to  those  among  whom  we 
live  as  our  temper,  our  own  particular  temper,  as  dis- 
tinguished from  the  tempers  of  other  people. 

Marzio  had  begun  life  in  a  bad  humour.  He 
delighted  in  his  imaginary  grievances,  and  inflicted  his 
angerr  on  all  who  came  near  him,  only  varying  the 
manifestation  of  it  to  suit  the  position  in  which  he 
chanced  to  find  himself  With  his  wife  he  was  over- 
bearing ;  with  his  brother  he  was  insolent ;  with  his 
apprentice  he  was  sullen ;  and  with  his  associates  at 
the  old  Falcone  he  played  the  demagogue.  The  reason 
of  these  phases  was  very  simple.  His  wife  could  not 
oppose  him,  Don  Paolo  would  not  wrangle  with  him, 
Gianbattista  imposed  upon  him  by  his  superior  calm 
and  strength  of  character,  and,  lastly,  his  socialist 
friends  applauded  him  and  flattered  his  vanity.  It  is 
impossible  for  a  weak  man  to  appear  always  the  same, 
and  his  weakness  is  made  the  more  noticeable  when 
he  affects  strength.  The  sinews  of  goodness  are 
courage,  moral  and  physical,  a  fact  which  places  all 
really  good    men    and   women    beyond   the   reach  of 


CHAP.  V  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  91 

ridicule  and  above  the  high- water  mark  of  the  world's 
contempt. 

Marzio  lacked  courage,  and  his  virulence  boiled  most 
hotly  when  he  had  least  to  fear  for  his  personal  safety. 
It  was  owing  to  this  innate  weakness  that  such  a 
combination  of  artistic  sensitiveness  and  spasmodic 
arrogance  was  possible.  The  man's  excitable  imagina- 
tion apprehended  opposition  where  there  was  none,  and 
his  timidity  made  him  fear  a  struggle,  and  hate  him- 
self for  fearing  it.  As  soon  as  he  was  alone,  however, 
his  thoughts  generally  returned  to  his  art,  and  found 
expression  in  the  delicate  execution  of  the  most  ex- 
quisite fancies.  Under  other  circumstances  his  char- 
acter might  have  developed  in  a  widely  different  way ; 
his  talent  would  still  have  been  the  same.  There  is  a 
sort  of  nervous  irritability  which  acts  as  a  stimulant 
upon  the  faculties,  and  makes  them  work  faster.  With 
Marzio  this  unnatural  state  was  chronic,  and  had 
become  so  because  he  had  given  himself  up  to  it.  It 
is  a  common  disease  in  cities,  where  a  man  is  forced  to 
associate  with  his  fellow-men,  and  to  compete  with 
them,  whether  he  is  naturally  inclined  to  do  so  or  not. 
If  Marzio  could  have  exercised  his  art  while  living  as 
a  hermit  on  the  top  of  a  lonely  mountain  he  might 
have  been  a  much  better  man. 

He  almost  understood  this  himself  as  he  walked 
slowly  through  the  Via  delle  Botteghe  Oscure — "  the 


92  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  v 

street  of  dark  shops  " — in  the  early  morning.  He  was 
thinking  of  the  crucifix  he  was  to  make,  and  the 
interest  he  felt  in  it  made  him  dread  the  consequences 
of  the  previous  night's  domestic  wrangling.  He  wanted 
to  be  alone,  and  at  the  same  time  he  wanted  to  see 
places  and  things  which  should  suggest  thoughts  to 
him.  He  did  not  care  whither  he  went  so  long  as  he 
kept  out  of  the  new  Eome.  "When  he  reached  the 
little  garden  in  front  of  San  Marco  he  paused,  looked 
at  the  deep  doorway  of  the  church,  remembered  the 
barbarous  mosaics  within,  and  turned  impatiently  into 
a  narrow  street  on  the  right — the  beginning  of  the 
Via  di  Marforio. 

The  network  of  by-ways  in  this  place  is  full  of  old- 
time  memories.  Here  is  the  Via  Giulio  Romano, 
where  the  painter  himself  once  lived ;  here  is  the 
Macel  dei  Corvi,  where  Michael  Angelo  once  lodged ; 
hard  by  stood  the  statue  of  Marforio,  christened  by  the 
mediaeval  Romans  after  Martis  Forum,  and  famous  as 
the  interlocutor  of  Pasquino.  The  place  was  a  centre 
of  artists  and  scholars  in  those  days.  Many  a  simple 
question  was  framed  here,  to  fit  the  two-edged  biting 
answer,  repeated  from  mouth  to  mouth,  and  carefully 
written  down  among  Pasquino's  epigrams.  First  of  all 
the  low-born  Roman  hates  all  that  is,  and  his  next 
thought  is  to  express  his  hatred  in  a  stinging  satire 
without  being  found  out. 


CHAP.  V  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  93 

Like  every  real  Eoman,  Marzio  thought  of  old  Mar- 
forio  as  he  strolled  up  the  narrow  street  towards  the 
Capitol,  and  regretted  the  lawless  days  of  conspiracy 
and  treacherous  deeds  when  every  man's  hand  was 
against  his  fellow.  He  wandered  on,  his  eyes  cast 
down,  and  his  head  bent.  Some  one  jostled  against 
him,  walking  quickly  in  the  opposite  direction.  He 
looked  up  and  recognised  Gasparo  Carnesecchi's  sallow 
face  and  long  nose. 

"  Eh  !  Sor  Marzio — is  it  you  ? "  asked  the  lawyer. 

"  I  think  so,"  answered  the  artist.  "  Excuse  me,  I 
was  thinking  of  something." 

"No  matter.  Of  what  were  you  thinking,  then? 
Of  Pasquino  ? " 

"  Why  not  ?  But  I  was  thinking  of  something 
else.  You  are  in  a  hurry,  I  am  sure.  Otherwise  we 
would  speak  of  that  affair." 

"  I  am  never  in  a  hurry  when  there  is  business  to  be 
treated,"  replied  Carnesecchi,  looking  down  the  street 
and  preparing  to  listen. 

"  You  know  what  I  mean,"  Marzio  began.  "  The 
matter  we  spoke  of  two  days  ago — my  plans  for  my 
daughter." 

The  lawyer  glanced  quickly  at  his  friend  and 
assumed  an  indifferent  expression.  He  was  aware 
that  his  position  was  socially  suj)erior  to  that  of  the 
silver-chiseller,  in  spite  of  Marzio's  great  talent.     But 


94  MAEZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  CHAP.  V 

he  knew  also  that  Lucia  was  to  have  a  dowry,  and 
that  she  would  ultimately  inherit  all  her  father  pos- 
sessed. A  dowry  covers  a  multitude  of  sins  in  the 
eyes  of  a  man  to  whom  money  is  the  chief  object  in 
life.  Carnesecchi,  therefore,  meant  to  extract  as  many 
thousands  of  francs  from  Marzio  as  should  be  possible, 
and  prepared  himself  to  bargain.  The  matter  was  by 
no  means  settled,  in  spite  of  the  chiseller's  instructions 
to  his  wife  concerning  the  outfit. 

"  We  must  talk,"  said  Carnesecchi.  "  Not  that  I 
should  be  altogether  averse  to  coming  easily  to  an 
understanding,  you  know.  But  there  are  many  things 
to  be  considered.     Let  us  see." 

"  Yes,  let  us  see,"  assented  the  other.  "  My 
daughter  has  education.  She  is  also  sufficiently  well 
instructed.  She  could  make  a  fine  marriage.  But 
then,  you  see,  I  desire  a  serious  person  for  my  son- 
in-law.  What  would  you  have  ?  One  must  be 
prudent." 

It  is  not  easy  to  define  exactly  what  a  Eoman 
means  by  the  word  "  serious."  In  some  measure  it  is 
the  opposite  of  gay,  and  especially  of  what  is  young 
and  unsettled.  The  German  use  of  the  word  Philistine 
expresses  it  very  nearly.  A  certain  sober,  straitlaced 
way  of  looking  at  life,  which  was  considered  to  repre- 
sent morality  in  Rome  fifty  years  ago ;  a  kind  of 
melancholy  superiority  over  all  sorts  of  amusements, 


CHAP.  V  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  95 

joined  with  a  considerable  asceticism  and  the  most 
rigid  economy  in  the  household — that  is  what  was 
meant  by  the  word  "  serious."  To-day  its  signification 
has  been  slightly  modified,  but  a  serious  man — un  uomo 
scrio — still  represents  to  the  middle -class  father  the 
ideal  of  the  correct  son-in-law. 

"  Eh,  without  prudence  ! "  exclaimed  Carnesecchi, 
elliptically,  as  though  to  ask  where  he  himself  would 
have  been  had  he  not  possessed  prudence  in  abund- 
ance. 

"  Exactly,"  answered  Marzio,  biting  off  the  end  of 
a  common  cigar  and  fixing  his  eyes  on  the  lawyer's 
thin,  keen  face.  "  Precisely.  I  think — of  course  I 
do  not  know — but  I  think  that  you  are  a  serious  man. 
But  then,  I  may  be  mistaken." 

"  Well,  it  is  Imman  to  err,  Sor  Marzio.  But  then, 
I  am  no  longer  of  that  age — what  shall  I  say  ? 
Everybody  knows  I  am  serious.  Do  I  lead  the  life 
of  the  cafe  ?  Do  I  wear  out  my  shoes  in  Piazza 
Colonna  ?      Capers  !     I  am  a  serious  man." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Marzio,  though  with  some  hesita- 
tion, as  though  he  were  prepared  to  argue  even  this 
point  with  the  sallow -faced  lawyer.  He  struck  a 
match  on  the  gaudy  little  paper  box  he  carried  and 
began  to  smoke  thoughtfully.  "  Let  us  make  a  couple 
of  steps,"  he  said  at  last. 

Both  men  moved  slowly  on  for  a  few  seconds,  and 


96  MARZIOS    CRUCIFIX  chap,  v 

then  stopped  again.     In  Italy  "  a  couple  of  steps  "  is 
taken  literally. 

"  Let  us  see/'  said  Carnesecchi.  "  Let  us  look  at 
things  as  they  are.  In  these  days  there  are  many 
excellent  opportunities  for  investing  money." 

"  Hum  I "  grunted  Marzio,  pulling  a  long  face  and 
looking  up  under  his  eyebrows.  "  I  know  that  is  your 
opinion,  Sor  Gasparo.  I  am  sorry  that  you  should  put 
so  much  faith  in  the  stability  of  things.  So  you,  too, 
have  got  the  malady  of  speculation.  I  suppose  you 
are  thinking  of  building  a  Palazzo  Carnesecchi  out  at 
Sant'  Agnese  in  eight  floors  and  thirty-two  apart- 
ments." 

"Yes,  I  am  mad,"  answered  the  lawyer  ironically. 

"  Who  knows  ? "  returned  the  other.  "  I  tell  you 
they  are  building  a  Pompeii  in  those  new  quarters. 
When  you  and  I  are  old  men,  crazy  Englishmen  will 
pay  two  francs  to  be  allowed  to  wander  about  the 
ruins." 

"  It  may  be.  I  am  not  thinking  of  building.  In 
the  first  place  I  have  not  the  soldi!* 

"  And  if  you  had  ? "  inquired  Marzio. 

"  What  nonsense  1  Besides,  no  one  has.  It  is  all 
done  on  credit,  and  the  devil  take  the  hindmost.  But 
if  I  really  had  a  million — eh  !  I  know  what  I  would 
do." 

"Let   us   hear.      I    also   know   what   I   would   do. 


CHAP.  V  MAKZIO'S   CRUCIFIX  97 

Basta !     What  is  the  use  of  building  castles   in  the 
air  ? " 

"  In  the  air,  or  not  in  the  air,  if  I  had  a  million, 
I  know  what  I  would  do." 

"  I  would  have  a  newspaper,"  said  Marzio.  "  Whew  ! 
how  it  would  sting  !  " 

"  It  would  sting  you,  and  bleed  you  into  the  bar- 
gain," returned  the  lawyer  with  some  contempt.  "  No 
one  makes  money  out  of  newspapers  in  these  times. 
If  I  had  money,  I  would  be  a  deputy.  With  prud- 
ence there  is  much  to  be  earned  in  the  Chambers,  and 
petitioners  know  that  they  must  pay  cash." 

"  It  is  certainly  a  career,"  assented  the  artist.  "  But, 
as  you  say,  it  needs  money  for  the  first  investment." 

"Not  so  much  as  a  million,  though.  With  a  good 
opening,  and  some  knowledge  of  the  law,  a  small  sum 
would  be  enough." 

"  It  is  a  career,  as  I  said,"  repeated  Marzio.  "  But 
five  thousand  francs  would  not  give  you  an  introduc- 
tion to  it." 

"  Five  thousand  francs ! "  exclaimed  Carnesecchi, 
v/ith  a  scornful  laugh.  "With  five  thousand  francs 
you  had  better  play  at  the  lottery.  After  all,  if  you 
lose,  it  is  nothing." 

"  It  is  a  great  deal  of  money,  Sor  Gasparo,"  replied 
the  chiseller.  "  When  you  have  made  it  little  by 
little — then  you  know  what  it  means." 

H 


98  MAEZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  v 

"  Perhaps.  But  we  have  been  standing  here  more 
than  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  I  have  a  client  waiting 
for  me  about  a  big  affair,  an  affair  of  millions." 

"  Bacchus  ! "  ejaculated  Marzio.  "  You  are  not  in 
a  hurry  about  the  matter.  Well,  we  can  always  talk, 
and  I  will  not  keep  you." 

"  We  might  walk  together,  and  say  what  we  have 
to  say." 

"  I  am  going  to  the  Capitol,"  Marzio  said,  for  he 
had  been  walking  in  that  direction  when  they  met. 

"  That  is  my  way,  too,"  answered  the  lawyer,  for- 
getting that  he  had  run  into  Marzio  as  he  came  down 
the  street. 

"  Eh  !  That  is  lucky,"  remarked  the  artist  with  an 
almost  imperceptible  smile.  "  As  I  was  saying,"  he 
continued,  "  five  thousand  francs  is  not  the  National 
Bank,  but  it  is  a  very  pretty  little  sum,  especially 
when  there  is  something  more  to  be  expected  in  the 
future." 

"  That  depends  on  the  future.  But  I  do  not  call  it 
a  sum.  ISTothing  under  twenty  thousand  is  a  sum, 
properly  speaking." 

"  Who  has  twenty  thousand  francs  ?"  laughed  Marzio, 
shrugging  his  shoulders  with  an  incredulous  look. 

"  You  talk  as  though  Eome  were  an  asylum  for 
paupers,"  returned  Carnesecchi.  "  Y\"ho  has  twenty 
thousand  francs  ?     Why,  everybody  has.      You  have. 


CHAP.  V  MARZIO'S   CRUCIFIX  99 

I  have.  One  must  be  a  beggar  not  to  have  that 
much.  After  all,  v^e  are  talking  about  business,  Sor 
Marzio.  Wliy  should  I  not  say  it  ?  I  have  always 
said  that  I  would  not  marry  with  less  than  that  for  a 
dowry.  Why  should  one  throw  away  one's  oppor- 
tunities ?  To  please  some  one  ?  It  is  not  my  business 
to  try  and  please  everybody.     One  must  be  just." 

"Of  course.  What?  Am  I  not  just?  But  if 
justice  were  done,  where  would  some  people  be  ?  I 
say  it,  too.  If  you  marry  my  daughter,  you  will 
expect  a  dowry.  Have  I  denied  it  ?  And  then,  five 
thousand  is  not  so  little.  There  is  the  outfit,  too ;  I 
have  to  pay  for  that." 

"  That  is  not  my  affair,"  laughed  the  lawyer.  "  That 
is  the  business  of  the  woman.  But  five  thousand 
francs  is  not  my  affair  either.  Think  of  the  responsi- 
bilities a  man  incurs  when  he  marries  !  Five  thousand  ! 
It  is  not  even  a  cup  of  coffee !  You  are  talking  to  a 
galantuomo,  an  honest  man,  Sor  Marzio.  Keflect  a 
little." 

"  I  reflect — yes !  I  reflect  that  you  ask  a  great 
deal  of  money,  Signor  Carnesecchi,"  replied  Marzio  with 
some  irritation. 

"  I  never  heard  that  anybody  gave  money  unless  it 
was  asked  for." 

"  It  wiU  not  be  for  lack  of  asking  if  you  do  not  get 
it "  retorted  the  artist. 


100  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  v 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Signer  Pandolfi  ? "  inquired 
Carnesecchi,  drawing  himself  up  to  his  full  height  and 
then  striking  his  hollow  chest  with  his  lean  hand. 
"  Do  you  mean  that  I  am  begging  money  of  you  ?  Do 
you  mean  to  insult  an  honest  man,  a  galantuomo  ? 
By  heaven,  Signor  Pandolfi,  I  would  have  you  know 
that  Gasparo  Carnesecchi  never  asked  a  favour  of  any 
man  !     Do  you  understand  ?      Let  us  speak  clearly." 

"  Who  has  said  anything  ? "  asked  Marzio.  "  Why 
do  you  heat  yourself  in  this  way  ?  And  then,  after 
all,  we  shall  arrange  this  affair.  You  wish  it.  I  wish 
it.  Why  should  it  not  be  arranged  ?  If  five  thousand 
does  not  suit  you,  name  a  sum.  We  are  Christians — 
we  will  doubtless  arrange.  But  we  must  talk.  How 
much  should  you  think,  Sor  Gasparo  ?  " 

"  I  have  said  it.  As  I  told  you  just  now,  I  have 
always  said  that  I  would  not  marry  with  less  than 
eighteen  thousand  francs  of  dowry.  What  is  the  use 
of  repeating  ?      Words  are  not  roasted  chestnuts." 

"ISTor  eighteen  thousand  francs  either,"  answered 
the  other.  "  Magari !  I  wish  they  were.  You  should 
have  them  in  a  moment.      But  a  franc  is  a  franc." 

"  I  did  not  say  it  was  a  cabbage,"  observed  Carne- 
secchi.     "  After  all,  why  should  I  marry  ? " 

"  Perhaps  you  will  not,"  suggested  Marzio,  who  was 
encouraged  to  continue  the  negotiations,  however,  by 
the  diminution  in  the  lawyer's  demands. 


CHAP.  V  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  101 

"  Wliy  not  ? "  asked  the  latter  sharply.  "  Do  you 
think  nobody  else  has  daughters  ?  " 

"If  it  comes  to  that,  why  have  you  not  married 
before  ? " 

"Because  I  did  not  choose  to  marry,"  answered 
Carnesecchi,  beginning  to  walk  more  briskly,  as  though 
to  push  the  matter  to  a  conclusion. 

Marzio  said  nothing  in  reply.  He  saw  that  his 
friend  was  pressing  him,  and  imderstood  that,  to  do 
so,  the  lawyer  must  be  anxious  to  marry  Lucia. 
The  chiseller  therefore  feigned  indifference,  and  was 
silent  for  some  minutes.  At  the  foot  of  the  steps  of 
the  Capitol  he  stopped  again. 

"  You  know,  Sor  Gasparo,"  he  said,  "  the  reason  why 
I  did  not  arrange  about  Lucia's  marriage  a  long  time 
ago,  was  because  I  was  not  particularly  in  a  hurry  to 
have  her  married  at  all.  And  I  am  not  in  a  hurry 
now,  either.  We  shall  have  plenty  of  opportunities 
of  discussing  the  matter  hereafter.  Good-bye,  Sor 
Gasparo.  I  have  business  up  there,  and  that  client  of 
yours  is  perhaps  impatient  about  his  millions." 

"Good-bye,"  answered  Carnesecchi.  "There  is 
plenty  of  time,  as  you  say.  Perhaps  we  may  meet 
this  evening  at  the  Falcone." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Marzio  drily,  and  turned  away. 
He  had  a  good  understanding  of  his  friend's  char- 
acter, and  though  in  Ins  present  mood  he  would  have 


102  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  v 

been  glad  to  fix  the  wedding  day,  and  sign  the  marriage 
contract  at  once,  he  had  no  intention  of  yielding  to 
Carnesecchi's  exorbitant  demands.  The  lawyer  was  in 
need  of  money,  Marzio  thought,  and  as  he  himself  was 
the  possessor  of  what  the  other  coveted,  there  could  be 
little  doubt  as  to  the  side  on  which  the  advantage 
would  ultimately  be  taken.  Marzio  went  half-way  up 
the  steps  of  the  Capitol,  and  then  stopped  to  look  at 
the  two  wretched  wolves  which  the  Eoman  municipality 
thinks  it  incumbent  on  the  descendants  of  Eomulus  to 
support.  He  thought  one  of  them  very  like  Carnesecchi. 
He  watched  the  poor  beasts  a  moment  or  two  as  they 
tramped  and  swung  and  pressed  their  lean  sides  against 
the  bars  of  their  narrow  cage. 

"What  a  sympathetic  animal  it  is!"  he  exclaimed 
aloud.  A  passer-by  stared  at  him  and  then  went  on 
hurriedly,  fearing  that  he  might  be  mad.  Indeed, 
there  was  a  sort  of  family  likeness  between  the  lawyer, 
the  chiseller,  and  the  wolves. 

Other  thoughts,  however,  occupied  Marzio's  atten- 
tion ;  and  as  soon  as  he  was  sure  that  his  friend  was 
out  of  the  way,  he  descended  the  steps.  He  did  not 
care  whither  he  went,  but  he  had  no  especial  reason 
for  climbing  the  steep  ascent  to  the  Capitol.  The 
crucifix  his  brother  had  ordered  from  him  on  the  pre- 
vious evening  engaged  his  attention,  and  it  was  as 
much  for  the  sake  of  being  alone  and  of  thinking  about 


CHAP.  V 


MAKZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  103 


the  work  that  he  had  taken  his  solitary  morning  walk, 
as  with  the  hope  of  finding  in  some  church  a  sugges- 
tion or  inspiration  which  might  serve  him.  He  knew 
what  was  to  be  found  in  Koman  churches  well  enough ; 
the  Crucifixion  in  the  Trinitc\  dei  Pellegrini  and  the 
one  in  San  Lorenzo  in  Lucina — both  by  Guido  Reni, 
and  both  eminently  unsympathetic  to  his  conception  of 
the  subject — he  had  often  looked  at  them,  and  did 
not  care  to  see  them  again.  At  last  he  entered  the 
Church  of  the  Gesu,  and  sat  down  upon  a  chair  in  a 
corner. 

He  did  not  look  up.  The  interior  of  the  building 
was  as  familiar  to  him  as  the  outside.  He  sat  in  pro- 
found thought,  occasionally  twisting  his  soft  hat  in  his 
hands,  and  then  again  remaining  quite  motionless.  He 
did  not  know  how  long  he  stayed  there.  The  perfect 
silence  was  pleasant  to  him,  and  when  he  rose  he  felt 
that  the  idea  he  had  sought  was  found,  and  could  be 
readily  expressed.  With  a  sort  of  sigh  of  satisfaction 
he  went  out  again  into  the  air  and  walked  quickly 
towards  his  workshop. 

The  men  told  him  that  Gianbattista  was  busy 
within,  and  after  glancing  sharply  at  the  work  which 
was  proceeding,  Marzio  opened  the  inner  door  and 
entered  the  studio.  He  strode  up  to  the  table  and 
took  up  the  body  of  the  ewer,  which  lay  on  its  pad 
where  he  had  left  it  the  night  before.      He  held  it  in 


104  MARZIO'S    CKUCIFIX  ^      cuap.  v 

his  hands  for  a  moment,  and  then,  pushing  the  leather 
cushion  towards  Gianbattista,  laid  it  down. 

"  Finish  it/'  he  said  shortly ;  "  I  have  something 
else  to  do." 

The  apprentice  looked  up  in  astonishment,  as  though 
he  suspected  that  Marzio  was  jesting. 

"  I  am  afraid "  he  answered  with  hesitation. 

"  It  makes  no  difference ;  finish  it  as  best  you  can  ; 
I  am  sick  of  it ;  you  will  do  it  well  enough.  If  it  is 
bad,  I  will  take  the  responsibility." 

"  Do  you  mean  me  really  to  finish  it — altogether  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  I  tell  you  I  have  a  great  work  on  hand.  I 
cannot  waste  my  time  over  such  toys  as  acanthus 
leaves  and  cherubs'  eyes  !"  He  bent  down  and  ex- 
amined the  thing  carefully.  "  You  had  better  lay 
aside  the  neck  and  take  up  the  body  just  where  I  left 
it,  Tista,"  he  continued.  "  The  scirocco  is  in  your 
favour.  If  it  turns  cold  to-morrow  the  cement  may 
shrink,  and  you  will  have  to  melt  it  out  again." 

Marzio  spoke  to  him  as  though  there  had  not  been 
the  least  difference  between  them,  as  though  Gianbat- 
tista had  not  proposed  to  cut  his  throat  the  night 
before,  as  though  he  himself  had  not  proposed  to 
marry  Carnesecchi  to  Lucia. 

"  Take  my  place,"  he  said.  "  The  cord  is  the  right 
length  for  you,  as  it  is  too  short  for  me.  I  am  going 
to  model." 


CHAP,  V  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  105 

Without  more  words  Marzio  went  and  took  a  large 
and  heavy  slate  from  the  corner,  washed  it  carefully, 
and  dried  it  with  his  handkerchief.  Then  he  provided 
himself  with  a  bowl  full  of  twisted  lengths  of  red  wax, 
and  with  a  couple  of  tools  he  sat  down  to  his  work. 
Gianbattista,  havinsj  chans^ed  his  seat,  looked  over  the 
tools  his  master  had  been  using,  with  a  workman's 
keen  glance,  and,  taking  up  his  own  hammer,  attacked 
the  task  given  him.  For  some  time  neither  of  the 
men  spoke. 

"  I  have  been  to  church,"  remarked  Marzio  at  last, 
as  he  softened  a  piece  of  wax  between  his  fingers 
before  laying  it  on  the  slate.  The  news  was  so 
astounding  that  Gianbattista  uttered  an  exclamation 
of  surprise. 

"  You  need  not  be  frightened,"  answered  the 
artist.  "  I  only  went  to  look  at  a  picture,  and  I 
did  not  look  at  it  after  all.  I  shall  go  to  a  great 
many  more  churches  before  I  have  finished  this 
piece  of  work.  You  ought  to  go  to  the  churches  and 
study,  Tista.  Everything  is  useful  in  our  art — pic- 
tures, statues,  mosaics,  metal-work.  Now  I  believe 
there  is  not  a  really  good  crucifix,  nor  a  crucifixion,  in 
Eome.  It  is  strange,  too,  I  have  dreamed  of  one  all 
my  life." 

Gianbattista  did  not  find  any  answer  ready  in  reply 
to  the  statement.      The  words  sounded  so  strangely  in 


106  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  CHAP.  7 

Marzio's  mouth  this  morning,  that  the  apprentice  was 
confused.  And  yet  the  two  had  often  discussed  the 
subject  before. 

"  You  do  not  seem  to  believe  me,"  continued  Marzio 
quietly.  "  I  assure  you  it  is  a  fact.  The  other  thi?:gs 
of  the  kind  are  not  much  better  either.  Works  of  art, 
perhaps,  but  not  satisfactory.  Even  Michael  Angelo's 
Pieta  in  Saint  Peter's  does  not  please  me.  They  say 
it  did  not  please  the  people  of  his  time  either — he  was 
too  young  to  do  anything  of  that  sort — he  was  younger 
than  you,  Tista,  only  twenty-four  years  old  when  he 
made  that  statue." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Gianbattista,  "  I  have  heard  you 
say  so."  He  bent  over  his  work,  wondering  what  his 
master  meant  by  this  declaration  of  taste.  It  seemed 
as  thouo-h  Marzio  felt  the  awkwardness  of  the  situation 
and  was  exerting  himself  to  make  conversation.  The 
idea  was  so  strange  that  the  apprentice  could  almost 
have  laughed.  Marzio  continued  to  soften  the  wax 
between  his  fingers,  and  to  lay  the  pieces  of  it  on  the 
slate,  pressing  them  roughly  into  the  shape  of  a  figure. 

"  Has  Paolo  been  here  ?"  asked  the  master  after 
another  lo^^g  pause. 

Gianbattista  merely  shook  his  head  to  express  a 
negative. 

"  Then  he  will  come,"  continued  Marzio.  ''  He  will 
not  leave  me  in  peace  all  day,  you  may  be  sure." 


CHAP.   V 


jrAIJZIO'S   CRUCIFIX  107 


"  What  should  he  come  for  ?  He  never  comes/' 
said  the  young  man. 

"  He  will  be  afraid  that  I  will  have  Lucia  married 
before  supper  time.  I  know  him — and  he  knows 
me." 

"  If  he  thinks  that,  he  does  not  know  you  at  all," 
answered  Gianbattista  quietly. 

"  Indeed  ?"  exclaimed  Marzio,  raising  his  voice  to 
the  ironical  tone  he  usually  affected  when  any  one 
contradicted  him.  "To-day,  to-morrow,  or  the  next 
day,  what  does  it  matter  ?  I  told  you  last  night  that 
I  had  made  up  my  mind." 

"  And  I  told  you  that  I  had  made  up  mine." 

"  Oh  yes — boy's  threats  !  I  am  not  the  man  to  be 
intimidated  by  that  sort  of  thing.  Look  here,  Tista,  I 
am  in  earnest.  I  have  considered  this  matter  a  long 
time  ;  I  have  determined  that  I  will  not  be  brow- 
beaten any  longer  by  two  women  and  a  priest — cer- 
tainly not  by  you.  If  things  go  on  as  they  are  going, 
I  shall  soon  not  be  master  in  my  own  house." 

"  You  would  be  the  only  loser,"  retorted  Gianbat- 
tista. 

"Have  done  with  this,  Tista!"  exclaimed  Marzio 
angrily.  "  I  am  tned  of  your  miserable  jokes.  You 
have  gone  over  to  the  enemy,  you  are  Paolo's  man,  and 
if  I  tolerate  you  here  any  longer  it  is  merely  because 
I  have  taught  you  something,  and  you  are  worth  your 


108  MAKZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  v 

wages.  As  for  the  way  I  have  treated  you  during  all 
these  years,  I  cannot  imagine  how  I  could  have  been 
such  a  fool.  I  should  think  anybody  might  see 
through  your  hypocritical  ways." 

"Go  on,"  said  Gianbattista  calmly.  "You  know 
our  bargain  of  last  night." 

"  I  will  risk  that.  If  I  see  any  signs  of  your  ami- 
able temper  I  will  have  you  arrested  for  threatening 
my  life.  I  am  not  afraid  of  you,  my  boy,  but  I  do 
not  care  to  die  just  at  present.  You  have  all  had  your 
way  long  enough,  I  mean  to  have  mine  now." 

"  Let  us  talk  reasonably,  Sor  Marzio.  You  say  we 
have  had  our  way.  You  talk  as  though  you  had  been 
in  slavery  in  your  own  house.  I  do  not  think  that  is 
the  opinion  of  your  wife,  nor  of  your  daughter.  As 
for  me,  I  have  done  nothing  but  execute  your  orders 
for  years,  and  if  I  have  learnt  something,  it  has  not 
been  by  trying  to  overrule  you  or  by  disregarding  your 
advice.  Two  years  ago,  you  almost  suggested  to  me 
that  I  should  marry  Lucia.  Of  course,  I  asked  nothing 
better,  and  we  agreed  to  wait  until  she  was  old  enough. 
We  discussed  the  matter  a  thousand  times.  We  settled 
the  details.  I  agreed  to  go  on  working  for  the  same 
small  wages  instead  of  leaving  you,  as  I  might  have 
done,  to  seek  my  fortune  elsewhere.  You  see  I  am 
calm,  I  acknowledge  that  I  was  grateful  to  you  for 
having  taught   me  so  much,  and  I  am  grateful  still. 


CHAP.  V  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  109 

You  have  just  given  me  another  proof  of  your  con- 
fidence in  putting  this  work  into  my  hands  to  finish. 
I  am  grateful  for  that.  Well,  we  have  talked  of  the 
marriage  often ;  I  have  lived  in  your  house ;  I  have 
seen  Lucia  every  day,  for  you  have  let  us  be  together 
as  much  as  we  pleased ;  the  result  is  that  I  not  only 
am  more  anxious  to  marry  her  than  I  was  before — I 
love  her ;  I  am  not  ashamed  to  say  so.  I  know  you 
laugh  at  women  and  say  they  are  no  better  than 
monkeys  with  parrots'  heads.  I  differ  from  you.  Lucia 
is  an  angel,  and  I  love  her  as  she  loves  me.  What 
happens  ?  One  day  you  take  an  unreasonable  dislike 
for  me,  without  even  warning  me  of  the  fact,  and  then, 
suddenly,  last  night,  you  come  home  and  say  she  is  to 
marry  the  Avvocato  Gasparo  Carnesecchi.  Now,  for  a 
man  who  has  taught  me  that  there  is  no  God  but 
reason,  all  this  strikes  me  as  very  unreasonable. 
Honestly,  Sor  Marzio,  do  you  not  think  so  your- 
self ?  " 

Marzio  looked  at  his  apprentice  and  frowned,  as 
though  hesitating  whether  to  lose  his  temper  and 
launch  into  the  invective  style,  or  to  answer  Gian- 
battista  reasonably.  Apparently  he  decided  in  favour 
of  the  more  peaceable  course. 

"  It  is  unworthy  of  a  man  who  follows  reason  to 
lose  his  self-control  and  indulge  in  vain  threats,"  he 
answered,  assuming  a  grand  didactic  air.    "  Tou  attempt 


110  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  v 

to  argue  with  me.  I  will  show  you  what  argument 
really  means,  and  whither  it  leads.  Now  answer  me  some 
questions,  Tista,  and  I  will  prove  that  you  are  alto- 
gether in  the  wrong.  When  a  man  is  devoted  to  a 
great  and  glorious  cause,  should  he  not  do  everything 
in  his  power  to  promote  its  success  against  those  who 
oppose  it  ? " 

"  Undoubtedly,"  assented  Gianbattista. 

"And  should  not  a  man  be  willing  to  sacrifice  his 
individual  preferences  in  order  to  support  and  to 
further  the  great  end  of  his  life  ?" 

"  Bacchus  !     I  believe  it !  " 

"  Then  how  much  the  more  easy  must  it  be  for  a 
man  to  support  his  cause  when  there  are  no  individual 
preferences  in  the  way  ! "  said  Marzio  triumphantly. 
"  That  is  true  reason,  my  boy.  That  is  the  inevitable 
logic  of  the  great  system." 

"  I  do  not  understand  the  allegory,"  answered  Gian- 
battista. 

"  It  is  as  simple  as  roasted  chestnuts,"  returned 
Marzio.  "  Even  if  I  liked  you,  it  would  be  my  duty 
to  prevent  you  from  marrying  Lucia.  As  I  do  not 
like  you — you  understand  ?  " 

*'  I  understand  that,"  replied  the  young  man.  "  For 
some  reason  or  other  you  hate  me.  But,  apart  from 
the  individual  preferences,  which  you  say  it  is  your 
duty  to  overcome,  I  do  not  see  why  you  are  morally 


CHAP.  V  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  111 

obliged    to    hinder    our    marriage,    after    having    felt 
morally  obliged  to  promote  it  ? " 

"Because  you  are  a  traitor  to  the  cause,"  cried 
Marzio,  with  sudden  fierceness.  "  Because  you  are  a 
friend  of  Paolo.      Is  not  that  enough  ? " 

"  Poor  Don  Paolo  seems  to  stick  in  your  throat," 
observed  Gianbattista.  "  I  do  not  see  what  he  has 
done,  except  that  he  prevented  me  from  killing  you 
last  night ! " 

"  Paolo  !  Paolo  is  a  snake,  a  venomous  viper  !  It 
is  his  business,  his  only  aim  in  life,  to  destroy  my 
peace,  to  pervert  my  daughter  from  the  wholesome 
views  I  have  tried  to  teach  her,  to  turn  you  aside  from 
the  narrow  path  of  austere  Italian  virtue,  to  draw  you 
away  from  following  in  the  footsteps  of  Brutus,  of 
Cassius,  of  the  great  Eomans,  of  me,  your  teacher  and 
master !  That  is  all  Paolo  cares  for,  and  it  is  enough 
— more  than  enough !  And  he  shall  pay  me  for  his 
presumptuous  interference,  the  villain  I " 

Marzio's  voice  sank  into  a  hissing  whisper  as  he 
bent  over  the  wax  he  was  twisting  and  pressing. 
Gianbattista  glanced  at  his  pale  face,  and  inwardly 
wondered  at  the  strange  mixture  of  artistic  genius,  of 
bombastic  rhetoric  and  relentless  hatred,  all  combined 
in  the  strange  man  whom  destiny  had  given  him  for  a 
master.  He  wondered,  too,  how  he  had  ever  been 
able  to  admire  the  contrasts  of  virulence  and  weakness, 


112  MAEZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  v 

of  petty  hatred  and  impossible  aspirations  which  had 
of  late  revealed  themselves  to  him  in  a  new  light. 
Have  we  not  most  of  us  assisted  at  the  breaking  of  the 
Image  of  Baal,  at  the  destruction  of  an  imaginary 
representative  of  an  illogical  ideal  ? 

"Well,  Sor  Marzio,"  said  Gianbattista  after  a  pause, 
"  if  I  were  to  return  to  my  worship  of  you  and  your 
principles — what  would  you  do  ?  Would  you  take  me 
back  to  your  friendship  and  give  me  your  daughter  ?" 

Marzio  looked  up  suddenly,  and  stared  at  the 
apprentice  in  surprise.  But  the  fresh  young  face  gave 
no  sign.  Gianbattista  had  spoken  quietly,  and  was 
again  intent  upon  his  work. 

"  If  you  gave  me  a  proof  of  your  sincerity,"  answered 
Marzio,  in  low  tones,  "  I  would  do  much  for  you.  Yes, 
I  would  give  you  Lucia — and  the  business  too,  when  I 
am  too  old  to  work.  But  it  must  be  a  serious  proof 
— no  child's  play." 

"What  do  you  call  a  serious  proof?  A  profession 
of  faith  ? " 

"Yes — sealed  with  the  red  wax  that  is  a  little 
thicker  than  water,"  answered  Marzio  grimly,  his  eyes 
still  fixed  on  Gianbattista's  face. 

"  In  blood,"  said  the  young  man  calmly.  "  Whose 
blood  would  you  like,  Sor  Marzio  ?  " 

"  Paolo's  ! " 

The  chiseller  spoke  in  a  scarcely  audible  whisper. 


CHAP.  V  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  113 

and  bent  low  over  his  slate,  modelling  hard  at  the 
figure  under  his  fingers. 

"  I  thought  so,"  muttered  Gianbattista  between  his 
teeth.  Then  he  raised  his  voice  a  little  and  continued : 
"  And  have  you  the  courage,  Sor  Marzio,  to  sit  there 
and  bargain  with  me  to  kill  your  brother,  bribing  me 
with  the  offer  of  your  daughter's  hand  ?  Why  do  you 
not  kill  him  yourself,  since  you  talk  of  such  things  ? " 

"  Nonsense,  my  dear  Tista — I  was  only  jesting," 
said  the  other  nervously.  "  It  is  just  like  your  folly 
to  take  me  in  earnest."  The  anger  had  died  out  of 
Marzio's  voice  and  he  spoke  almost  persuasively. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  answered  the  young  man.  "  I 
think  you  were  in  earnest  for  a  moment.  I  would 
not  advise  you  to  talk  in  that  way  before  any  one 
else.  People  might  interpret  your  meaning  seri- 
ously." 

"  After  all,  you  yourself  were  threatening  to  cut  my 
throat  last  night,"  said  Marzio,  with  a  forced  laugh. 
"It  is  the  same  thing.  My  life  is  as  valuable  as 
Paolo's.  I  only  suggested  that  you  should  transfer 
your  tender  attentions  from  me  to  my  brother." 

"  It  is  one  thing  to  threaten  a  man  to  his  face.  It 
is  quite  another  to  offer  a  man  a  serious  inducement 
to  commit  murder.  Since  you  have  been  so  very 
frank  with  me,  Sor  Marzio,  I  will  confess  that  if  the 
choice  lay  between  killing  3'ou,  or  killing  Don  Paolo, 


114  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap.  V 

under  the  present  circumstances  I  would  not  hesitate 
a  moment." 

"  And  which  would  you " 

"  Neither,"  replied  the  young  man,  with  a  cool  laugh. 
"  Don  Paolo  is  too  good  to  be  killed,  and  you  are  not 
good  enough.  Come  and  look  at  the  cherub's  head  I 
have  made." 


CHAPTEE  VI 

Lucia's  cheerfulness  was  not  genuine,  and  any  one 
possessing  greater  penetration  than  her  mother  would 
have  understood  that  she  was,  in  reality,  more  fright- 
ened than  she  was  willing  to  show.  The  girl  had  a 
large  proportion  of  common  sense,  combined  with  a 
quicker  perception  than  the  stout  Signora  Pandolfi. 
She  did  not  think  that  she  knew  anything  about  logic, 
and  she  had  always  shown  a  certain  inconsistency  in 
her  affection  for  Gianbattista,  but  she  had  nevertheless 
a  very  clear  idea  of  what  was  reasonable,  a  quality 
which  is  of  immense  value  in  difficulties,  though  it  is 
very  often  despised  in  every-day  life  by  people  who 
believe  themselves  blessed  by  the  inspirations  of 
genius. 

It  seems  very  hard  to  make  people  of  other  nation- 
alities understand  that  the  Italians  of  the  present  day 
are  not  an  imaginative  people.  It  is  nevertheless  true, 
and  it  is  only  necessary  to  notice  that  they  produce 
few,  if  any,  works  of  imagination.  They  have  no 
writers  of  fiction,  no  poets,  few  composers  of  merit 


116  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  vi 

and  few  artists  who  rank  with  those  of  other  nations. 
They  possessed  the  creative  faculty  once ;  they  have 
lost  it  in  our  day,  and  it  does  not  appear  that  they  are 
likely  to  regain  it.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Italians 
are  remarkable  engineers,  first-rate  mathematicians, 
clever,  if  unscrupulous,  diplomatists.  Though  they 
overrate  their  power  and  influence,  they  have  shown  a 
capacity  for  organisation  which  is  creditable  on  the 
whole.  If  they  fail  to  obtain  the  position  they  seek 
in  Europe,  their  failure  will  have  been  due  to  their 
inordinate  vanity  and  over-governing,  if  I  may  coin 
the  word,  rather  than  to  an  innate  want  of  intel- 
ligence. 

The  qualities  and  defects  of  the  Italian  nation  all 
existed  in  the  Pandolfi  family.  Marzio  possessed  more 
imagination  than  most  of  his  countrymen,  and  he  had, 
besides,  that  extraordinary  skill  in  his  manual  execu- 
tion of  his  work,  which  Italians  have  often  exhibited 
on  a  large  scale.  On  the  other  hand,  he  was  full  of 
bombastic  talk  about  principles  which  he  called  great. 
His  views  concerning  society,  government,  and  the 
future  of  his  country,  were  entirely  without  balance, 
and  betrayed  an  amazing  ignorance  of  the  laws  which 
direct  the  destinies  of  mankind.  He  suffered  in  a 
remarkable  degree  from  that  mental  disease  which 
afflicts  Italians — the  worship  of  the  fetish — of  words 
which  mean  little,  and  are  supposed  to  mean  much,  of 


CHAP.  VI  MAllZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  117 

names  in  history  which  have  "been  exalted  by  the 
rhetoric  of  demagogues  from  the  obscurity  to  which 
they  had  been  wisely  consigned  by  the  judgment  of 
scholars.  He  was  alternately  weak  and  despotic, 
cunning  about  small  things  which  concerned  his  own 
fortunes,  and  amazingly  foolish  about  the  set  of  ideas 
which  he  loosely  defined  as  politics. 

Lucia's  nature  illustrated  another  phase  of  the  Italian 
character,  and  one  which,  if  it  is  less  remarkable,  is 
much  more  agreeable.  She  possessed  the  character 
which  looks  at  everything  from  the  point  of  view  of 
daily  life.  Without  imagination,  she  regarded  only 
the  practical  side  of  existence.  Her  vanity  was  confined 
to  a  modest  wish  to  make  the  best  of  her  appearance, 
while  her  ambition  went  no  further  than  the  strictest 
possibility,  in  the  shape  of  a  marriage  with  Gianbattista 
Bordogni,  and  a  simple  little  apartment  with  a  terrace 
and  pots  of  pinks.  Had  she  known  how  much  richer 
her  father  was  than  she  suspected  him  of  being,  the 
enlargement  of  her  views  for  the  future  would  have 
been  marked  by  a  descent,  from  the  fourth  story  of 
the  house  which  was  to  be  her  imaginary  home,  to  the 
third  story.  It  could  never  have  entered  her  head 
that  Gianbattista  ought  to  give  up  his  profession  until 
he  was  too  old  to  work  any  longer.  In  her  estima- 
tion, the  mere  possession  of  money  could  not  justify 
a  change  of  social  position.     She  had  been  accustomed 


118  MAKZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap.  VI 

from  her  childhood  to  hear  her  father  air  his  views  in 
regard  to  the  world  in  general,  but  his  preaching  had 
produced  but  little  impression  upon  her.  When  he 
thought  she  was  listening  in  profound  attention  to  his 
discourse,  she  was  usually  wishing  that  he  could  be 
made  to  see  the  absurdity  of  his  theories.  She  wished 
also  that  he  would  sacrifice  some  of  his  enthusiasm 
for  the  sake  of  a  little  more  quiet  in  the  house,  for 
she  saw  that  his  talking  distressed  her  mother.  Further 
than  this  she  cared  little  what  he  said,  and  not  at  all 
for  what  he  thought.  Her  mind  was  generally  occu- 
pied with  the  one  subject  which  absorbed  her  thoughts, 
and  which  had  grown  to  be  by  far  the  most  important 
part  of  her  nature,  her  love  for  Gianbattista  Bordogni. 
Upon  that  point  she  was  inflexible.  Her  Uncle 
Paolo  mioht  have  led  her  to  chancre  her  mind  in 
regard  to  many  things,  for  she  was  open  to  persuasion 
where  her  common  sense  was  concerned.  But  in  her 
love  for  Gianbattista  she  was  fixed  and  determined. 
It  would  have  been  more  easy  to  turn  her  father  from 
his  ideas  than  to  make  Lucia  give  up  the  man  she 
loved.  When  Marzio  had  suddenly  declared  that  she 
should  marry  the  lawyer,  her  first  feeling  had  been  one 
of  ungovernable  anger  which  had  soon  found  vent  in 
tears.  During  the  night  she  had  thought  the  matter 
over,  and  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  only 
an  evil  jest,  invented   by  Marzio  to   give   her   pain. 


CHAP.  VI  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  119 

But  in  the  morning  it  seemed  to  her  as  though  on  the 
far  horizon  a  black  cloud  of  possible  trouble  were 
gathering ;  she  had  admitted  to  herself  that  her  father 
might  be  in  earnest,  and  she  had  felt  something  like 
the  anticipation  of  the  great  struggle  of  her  life. 
Then  she  felt  that  she  would  die  rather  than  submit. 

She  had  no  theatrical  desire  to  swear  a  fearful  oath 
with  Gianbattista  that  they  should  drown  themselves 
at  the  Ponte  Quattro  Capi  rather  than  be  separated. 
Her  nature  was  not  dramatic,  any  more  than  his. 
The  young  girl  dressed  herself  quickly,  and  made  up 
her  mind  that  if  any  pressure  were  brought  to  bear 
upon  her  she  would  not  yield,  but  that,  until  then, 
there  was  no  use  in  making  phrases,  and  it  would  be 
better  to  be  as  cheerful  as  possible  under  the  circum- 
stances. But  for  Lucia's  reassuring  manner,  the 
Signora  Pandolfi  would  have  doubtless  succumbed  to 
her  feelings  and  gone  to  bed.  Lucia,  however,  had  no 
intention  of  allowing  her  mother  any  such  weakness, 
and  accordingly  alternately  comforted  her  and  sug- 
gested means  of  escape  from  the  position,  as  though 
she  were  herself  the  mother  and  Maria  Luisa  were  her 
child. 

They  found  Don  Paolo  in  his  small  lodging,  and  he 
bid  them  enter,  that  they  might  all  talk  the  matter 
over. 

"  In  the  first  place,"  said  the  priest,  "  it  is  wrong. 


120  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  vi 

In  the  second  place  it  is  impossible.  Thirdly,  Marzio 
will  not  attempt  to  carry  out  his  threat." 

"  Dear  me !  How  simple  you  make  it  seem ! " 
exclaimed  the  Signora  Pandolfi,  reviving  at  his  first 
words,  like  a  tired  horse  when  he  sees  the  top  of  the 
hill. 

"  But  if  papa  should  try  and  force  me  to  it — what 
then  ? "  asked  Lucia,  who  was  not  so  easily  satisfied. 

"  He  cannot  force  you  to  it,  my  child — the  law 
will  not  allow  him  to  do  so.  I  told  you  so  last 
night." 

"  But  the  law  is  so  far  off — and  he  is  so  violent," 
answered  the  young  girl. 

"  Never  fear,"  said  Don  Paolo,  reassuring  her.  "  I 
will  manage  it  all.  There  will  be  a  struggle,  perhaps  ; 
but  I  will  make  him  see  reason.  He  had  been  with 
his  friends  last  night,  and  his  mind  was  excited ;  he 
was  not  himself.  He  will  have  thought  differently  of 
it  this  morning." 

"  On  the  contrary,"  put  in  the  Signora  Pandolfi, 
"  he  waked  me  up  at  daylight  and  gave  me  a  quantity 
of  money  to  go  and  buy  Lucia's  outfit.  And  he  will 
come  home  at  midday  and  ask  to  see  the  things  I 
have  brought,  and  so  I  thought  perhaps  we  had  better 
buy  something  just  to  show  him — half  a  dozen  hand- 
kerchiefs— something  to  make  a  figure,  you  under- 
stand ? " 


CHAP.  VI  MARZIO'S   CRUCIFIX  121 

Don  Paolo  smiled,  and  Lucia  looked  sympatlietically 
from  him  to  her  mother. 

"  I  am  afraid  that  half  a  dozen  handkerchiefs  would 
have  a  bad  effect,"  said  the  priest.  "  Either  he  would  see 
that  you  are  not  in  earnest,  and  then  he  would  be  very 
angry,  or  else  he  would  be  deceived  and  would  think 
that  you  were  really  buying  the  outfit.  In  that 
case  you  would  have  done  harm.  This  thing  must 
not  go  any  further.  The  idea  must  be  got  out  of  his 
head  as  soon  as  possible." 

"But  if  I  do  nothing  at  all  before  dinner  he  will  be 
furious — he  will  cry  out  that  we  are  all  banded  to- 
gether against  him " 

"  So  we  are,"  said  Don  Paolo  simply. 

"  Oh  dear,  oh  dear  ! "  moaned  the  Signora  Pandolfi, 
looking  for  her  handkerchief  in  the  anticipation  of 
fresh  tears. 

"  Do  not  cry,  mamma.     It  is  of  no  use,"  said  Lucia. 

"  No,  it  is  of  no  use  to  cry,"  assented  the  priest. 
"  There  is  nothing  to  be  done  but  to  go  and  face 
Marzio,  and  not  leave  him  until  he  has  changed  his 
mind.  You  are  afraid  to  meet  him  at  midday.  I  will 
go  now  to  the  workshop  and  find  him." 

"  Oh,  you  are  an  angel,  Paolo  ! "  cried  Maria  Luisa, 
regaining  her  composure  and  replacing  her  handker- 
chief in  her  pocket.  "Then  we  need  not  buy  any- 
thing ?     What  a  relief  1 " 


122  MAKZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  CHAP.  VI 

"  I  told  you  Uncle  Paolo  would  know  what  to  do," 
said  Lucia.  "  He  is  so  good — and  so  courageous.  I 
would  not  like  to  face  papa  this  morning.  Will  you 
really  go,  Uncle  Paolo  ? "  The  young  girl  went  and 
took  down  his  cloak  and  hat  from  a  peg  on  the  wall, 
and  brought  them  to  him. 

"  Of  course  I  will  go,  and  at  once,"  he  answered. 
"  But  I  must  give  you  a  word  of  advice." 

"  We  will  do  everything  you  tell  us,"  said  the  two 
women  together. 

"  You  must  not  ask  him  any  questions,  nor  refer  to 
the  matter  at  all  when  he  comes  home." 

"  Diana !  I  would  as  soon  speak  of  death ! "  ex- 
claimed the  Signora  Pandolfi. 

"  And  if  he  begins  to  talk  about  it  you  must  not 
answer  him,  nor  irritate  him  in  any  way." 

''  Be  easy  about  that,"  answered  the  fat  lady. 
*' Never  meddle  with  sleeping  dogs — I  know." 

^'  If  he  grows  very  angry  you  must  refer  him  to 
me." 

"  Oh,  but  that  is  another  matter  !  I  would  rather 
offer  pepper  to  a  cat  than  talk  to  him  of  you.  You 
w^ould  see  how  he  would  curse  and  swear  and  call 
you  by  bad  names." 

"Well,  you  must  not  do  anything  to  make  him 
swear,  because  that  would  be  a  sin ;  but  if  he  only 
abuses  me,  I   do   not  mind.      He  will  do  that  when  I 


CHAP.  VI  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  123 

talk  to  him.      Perhaps   after  all,  if  he  mentions  the 
matter,  you  had  better  remain  silent." 

"  Eh !  that  will  be  easy.  He  talks  so  much,  and 
he  talks  so  fast,  never  waiting  for  an  answer.  But 
are  you  not  afraid  for  yourself,  dear  Paolo  ? " 

"  Oh,  he  will  not  hurt  me — I  am  not  afraid  of  him," 
answered  the  priest.  "He  will  talk  a  little,  he  will 
use  some  big  words,  and  then  it  will  be  finished.  You 
see,  it  is  not  a  great  thing,  after  all.  Take  courage, 
Maria  Luisa,  it  will  be  a  matter  of  half  an  hour." 

"  Heaven  grant  it  may  be  only  that  ! "  murmured 
Marzio's  wife,  turning  up  her  eyes,  and  rising  from 
her  chair. 

Lucia,  who,  as  has  been  said,  had  a  very  keen  ap- 
preciation of  facts,  did  not  believe  that  things  would 
go  so  smoothly. 

"  You  had  better  come  back  with  him  to  our  house 
when  it  is  all  over,"  she  said,  "just  to  give  us  a  sign 
that  it  is  settled,  you  know,  Uncle  Paolo." 

Don  Paolo  himself  had  his  doubts  about  the  issue, 
although  he  put  such  a  brave  face  on  it,  and  in  spite 
of  the  Signora  Pandolfi.  That  good  lady  was  by  nature 
very  sincere,  but  she  always  seemed  to  bring  an  irrele- 
vant and  comic  element  into  the  proceedings. 

The  result  of  the  interview  was  that,  in  half  an 
hour,  Don  Paolo  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  workshop  in 
the  Via  dei  Falegnami,  where  Marzio  and  Gianbattista 


124  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  vi 

were    at     work.       The    chiseller's     voice     bade    him 
enter. 

Don  Paolo  had  not  found  much  time  to  collect  his 
thoughts  before  he  reached  the  scene  of  battle,  but  his 
opinion  of  the  matter  in  hand  w^as  well  formed.  He 
loved  his  niece,  and  he  had  begun  to  like  Gianbattista. 
He  knew  the  lawyer,  Carnesecchi,  by  reputation,  and 
what  he  had  heard  of  him  did  not  prejudice  him  in 
the  man's  favour.  It  would  have  been  the  same  had 
Marzio  chosen  any  one  else.  In  the  priest's  estima- 
tion, Gianbattista  had  a  right  to  expect  the  fulfilment 
of  the  many  promises  which  had  been  made  to  him. 
To  break  those  promises  for  no  ostensible  reason,  just 
as  Gianbattista  seemed  to  be  growing  up  to  be  a 
sensible  man,  was  an  act  of  injustice  which  Don  Paolo 
would  not  permit  if  he  could  help  it.  Gianbattista 
was  not,  perhaps,  a  model  man,  but,  by  contrast  with 
Marzio,  he  seemed  almost  saintly.  He  had  a  good 
disposition  and  no  vices  ;  married  to  Lucia  and  devoted 
to  his  art,  much  might  be  expected  of  him.  On  the 
other  hand,  Gasparo  Carnesecchi  represented  the  devil 
in  person.  He  was  known  to  be  an  advanced  free- 
thinker, a  radical,  and,  perhaps,  worse  than  a  radical — 
a  socialist.  He  was  certainly  not  very  rich,  and 
Lucia's  dowry  would  be  an  object  to  him ;  he  would 
doubtless  spend  the  last  copper  of  the  money  in  at- 
tempting to  be  elected  to   the   Chambers.      If  he  sue- 


CHAP.  VI  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  125 

ceeded,  he  would  represent  another  unit  in  that  ill- 
guided  minority  which  has  for  its  sole  end  the  sub- 
version of  the  existing  state  of  things.  He  would 
probably  succeed  in  getting  back  the  money  he  had 
spent,  and  more  also,  by  illicit  means.  If  he  failed, 
the  money  would  be  lost,  and  he  would  go  from  bad 
to  worse,  intriguing  and  mixing  himself  up  with  the 
despicable  radical  press,  in  the  hope  of  getting  a  hear- 
ing and  a  place. 

There  is  a  scale  in  the  meaning  of  the  word  socialist. 
In  France  it  means  about  the  same  thing  as  a  com- 
munist, when  one  uses  plain  language.  When  one 
uses  the  language  of  Monsieur  Drumont,  it  means  a 
Jew.  In  England  a  socialist  is  equal  to  a  French 
conservative  republican.  In  America  it  means  a  thief. 
In  Germany  it  means  an  ingenious  individual  of 
restricted  financial  resources,  who  generally  fails  to 
blow  up  some  important  personage  with  wet  dynamite. 
In  Italy  a  socialist  is  an  anarchist  pure  and  simple, 
who  wishes  to  destroy  everything  existing  for  the  sake 
of  dividing  a  wealth  which  does  not  exist  at  all.  It 
also  means  a  young  man  who  orders  a  glass  of  water 
and  a  toothpick  at  a  caf^,  and  is  able  to  talk  politics 
for  a  considerable  time  on  this  slender  nourishment. 
Signor  Succi  and  Signor  Merlatti  have  discovered 
nothing  new.  Their  miracles  of  fasting  may  be  ob- 
served by  the  curious  at  any  time  in  a  Eoman  cafL 


126  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  vi 

Don  Paolo  regarded  the  niere  idea  of  an  alliance 
with  Gasparo  Carnesecchi  as  an  outrage  upon  common 
sense,  and  when  he  entered  Marzio's  workshop  he  was 
determined  to  say  so.  Marzio  looked  up  with  an  air 
of  inquiry,  and  Gianbattista  foresaw  what  was  coming. 
He  nodded  to  the  priest,  and  brought  forward  the  old 
straw  chair  from  the  corner ;  then  he  returned  to  his 
work  in  silence. 

"  You  will  have  guessed  my  errand,"  Don  Paolo 
began,  by  way  of  introducing  his  subject. 

"  No,"  answered  Marzio  doggedly.  "  Something  about 
the  crucifix,  I  suppose." 

"  Not  at  all,"  returned  the  priest,  folding  his  hands 
over  the  handle  of  his  umbrella.  "A  much  more 
delicate  matter.  You  suggested  last  night  an  im- 
probable scheme  for  marrying  Lucia." 

"  You  had  better  say  that  I  told  you  plainly  what 
I  mean  to  do.  If  you  have  come  to  talk  about  that, 
you  had  better  talk  to  the  workmen  outside.  They 
may  answer  you.      I  will  not !  " 

Don  Paolo  was  not  to  be  so  easily  put  off.  He 
waited  a  moment  as  though  to  give  Marzio  time  to 
change  his  mind,  and  then  proceeded. 

"  There  are  three  reasons  why  this  marriage  will 
not  take  place,"  he  said.  "  In  the  first  place,  it  is 
wrong — that  is  my  point  of  view.  In  the  second 
place,  it  is  impossible — and  that  is   the  view  the  law 


CHAP.  VI  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  12? 

takes  of  it.  Thirdly,  it  will  not  take  place  because 
you  will  not  attempt  to  push  it.  What  do  you  say 
of  my  reasons,  Marzio  ? " 

"  They  are  worthy  of  you,"  answered  the  artist. 
"  In  the  first  place,  I  do  not  care  a  fig  for  what  you 
think  is  wrong,  or  right  either.  Secondly,  I  will  take 
the  law  into  my  own  hands.  Thirdly,  I  will  bring  it 
about  and  finish  it  in  a  fortnight ;  and  fourthly,  you 
may  go  to  the  devil !  What  do  you  think  of  my 
reasons,  Paolo  ?  They  are  better  than  yours,  and 
much  more  likely  to  prevail." 

"  My  dear  Marzio,"  returned  the  priest  quietly,  "  you 
may  say  anything  you  please,  I  believe,  in  these  days 
of  liberty.  But  the  law  will  not  permit  you  to  act 
upon  your  words.  If  you  can  persuade  your  daughter 
to  marry  Gasparo  Carnesecchi  of  her  own  free  will, 
well  and  good.  If  you  cannot,  there  is  a  statute,  I 
am  quite  sure,  which  forbids  your  dragging  her  up  the 
steps  of  the  Capitol,  and  making  her  sign  her  name  by 
force  or  violence  in  the  presence  of  the  authorities. 
You  may  take  my  word  for  it ;  and  so  you  had  better 
dismiss  the  matter  from  your  mind  at  once,  and  think 
no  more  about  it." 

"  I  remember  that  you  told  her  so  last  night," 
growled  Marzio,  growing  pale  with  anger. 

"  Certainly." 

"  You — you — you  priest  !  "  cried  the  chiseller,  un- 


128  MARZIO'S   CRUCIFIX  chap,  vr 

able  in  liis  rage  to  find  an  epithet  which  he  judged 
more  degrading.     Don  Paolo  smiled. 

"  Yes,  I  am  a  priest,"  he  answered  calmly. 

"  Yes,  you  are  a  priest,"  yelled  Marzio,  "  and  what 
is  to  become  of  paternal  authority  in  a  househoVl 
where  such  fellows  as  you  are  listening  at  the  key- 
holes ?  Is  a  man  to  have  no  more  rights  ?  Are  wo 
to  be  ruled  by  women  and  creatures  in  petticoats? 
Viper  !  Poisoning  my  household,  teaching  my  daughter 
to  disobey  me,  my  wife  to  despise  me,  my  paid  work- 
men to " 

"  Silence  !  "  cried  Gianbattista  in  ringing  tones,  and 
with  the  word  he  sprang  to  his  feet  and  clapped  his 
hand  on  Marzio's  mouth. 

The  effect  was  sudden  and  unexpected.  Marzio 
was  utterly  taken  by  surprise.  It  was  incredible  to 
him  that  any  one  should  dare  to  forcibly  prevent  him 
from  indulging  in  the  language  he  had  used  with 
impunity  for  so  many  years.  He  leaned  back  pale 
and  astonished,  and  momentarily  dumb  with  amaze- 
ment. Gianbattista  stood  over  him,  his  young 
cheeks  flushed  with  anger,  and  his  broad  fist 
clenched. 

"  If  you  dare  to  talk  in  that  way  to  Don  Paolo,  I 
will  kill  you  with  my  hands  ! "  he  said,  his  voice  sink- 
ing lower  with  concentrated  determination.  "  I  have 
had  enough  of  your  foul  talk.     He  is  a  better  man 


CHAP.  VI  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  12£ 

than  you,  as  I  told  you  last  night,  and  I  repeat  it 
now — take  care " 

Marzio  made  a  movement  as  though  he  would  rise, 
and  at  the  same  instant  Gianbattista  seized  the  long, 
fine-pointed  punch,  which  served  for  the  eyes  of  the 
cherubs — a  dangerous  weapon  in  a  determined  hand. 

Don  Paolo  had  risen  from  his  chair,  and  was  trying 
to  push  himself  between  the  two.  But  Gianbattista 
would  not  let  him. 

"  For  heaven's  sake,"  cried  the  priest  in  great  dis- 
tress, "  no  violence,  Tista — I  will  call  the  men " 

"  Never  fear,"  answered  the  apprentice  quietly  ;  "  the 
man  is  a  coward." 

"  To  me — you  dare  to  say  that  to  me  !  "  exclaimed 
Marzio,  drawing  back  at  the  same  time. 

"  Yes — it  is  quite  true.  But  do  not  suppose  that  I 
think  any  the  worse  of  you  on  that  account,  Sor  Marzio." 

With  this  taunt,  delivered  in  a  voice  that  expressed 
the  most  profound  contempt,  Gianbattista  went  back 
to  his  seat  and  took  up  his  hammer  as  though  nothing 
had  happened.  Don  Paolo  drew  a  long  breath  of 
relief.  As  for  Marzio,  his  teeth  chattered  with  rage. 
His  weakness  had  been  betrayed  at  last,  and  by  Gian- 
battista. All  his  life  he  had  succeeded  in  concealing 
the  physical  fear  which  his  words  beKed.  He  had 
cultivated  the  habit  of  offering  to  face  danger,  speak- 
ing of  it  in  a  quiet  way,  as  he  had  observed  that  brave 

K 


130  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  vi 

men  did.  He  had  found  it  good  policy  to  tell  people 
that  he  was  not  afraid  of  them,  and  his  bearing  had 
hitherto  saved  him  from  physical  violence.  Now  he 
felt  as  though  all  his  nerves  had  been  drawn  out  of 
his  body.  He  had  been  terrified,  and  he  knew  that 
he  had  shown  it.  Gianbattista's  words  stung  in  his 
ears  like  the  sting  of  wasps. 

"  You  shall  never  enter  this  room  again,"  he  hissed 
out  between  his  teeth.  The  young  man  shrugged  his 
shoulders  as  though  he  did  not  care.  Don  Paolo  sat 
down  again  and  grasped  his  umbrella. 

"  Gianbattista,"  said  the  priest,  "  I  am  grateful  to 
you  for  your  friendship,  my  boy.  But  it  is  very 
wrong  to  be  violent " 

"  It  is  one  of  the  seven  deadly  sins ! "  cried  Marzio, 
finding  his  voice  at  last,  and  by  a  strange  accident 
venting  his  feelings  in  a  sentence  which  might  have 
been  spoken  by  a  confessor  to  a  penitent. 

Gianbattista  could  not  help  laughing,  but  he  shook 
his  head  as  though  to  explain  that  it  was  not  his  fault 
if  he  was  violent  with  such  a  man. 

"  It  is  very  wrong  to  threaten  people,  Tista," 
repeated  Don  Paolo;  "and  besides  it  does  not  hurt 
me,  what  Marzio  says.  Let  us  all  be  calm.  Marzio, 
let  us  discuss  this  matter  reasonably.  Tista,  do  not 
be  angry  at  anything  that  is  said.  There  is  nothing 
to  be  done  but  to  look  at  the  question  quietly." 


CHAr.  VI  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  131 

"  It  is  very  well  for  you  to  talk  like  that,"  grumbled 
Marzio,  pretending  to  busy  himself  over  his  model  in 
order  to  cover  his  agitation. 

"  It  is  of  no  use  to  talk  in  any  other  way,"  answered 
the  priest.  "  I  return  to  the  subject.  I  only  want  to 
convince  you  that  you  will  find  it  impossible  to  carry 
out  your  determination  by  force.  You  have  only  to 
ask  the  very  man  you  have  hit  upon,  the  Avvocato 
Carnesecchi,  and  he  will  tell  you  the  same  thing.  He 
knows  the  law  better  than  you  or  I.  He  will  refuse 
to  be  a  party  to  such  an  attempt.  Ask  him,  if  you 
do  not  believe  me." 

"  Yes ;  a  pretty  position  you  want  to  put  me  in,  by 
the  body  of  a  dog !  To  ask  a  man  to  marry  my 
daughter  by  force !  A  fine  opinion  he  would  conceive 
of  my  domestic  authority !  Perhaps  you  will  take 
upon  yourself  to  go  and  tell  him — won't  you,  dear 
Paolo  ?     It  would  save  me  the  trouble." 

"  I  think  that  is  your  affair,"  answered  Don  Paolo, 
taking  him  in  earnest.      "Nevertheless,  if  you  wish 

it 

"  Oh,  this  is  too  much ! "  cried  Marzio,  his  anger 
rising  again.  "  It  is  not  enough  that  you  thwart  me 
at  every  turn,  but  you  come  here  to  mock  me,  to  make 
a  figure  of  me !  Take  care,  Paolo,  take  care  !  You 
may  go  too  far." 

"  I  would  not  advise  you  to  go  too  far,  Sor  Marzio," 


132  MAKZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  vi 

put     in     Gianbattista,    turning    half    round     on    his 
stool. 

"  Cannot  I  speak  without  being  interrupted  ?  Go 
on  with  your  work,  Tista,  and  let  us  talk  this  matter 
out.  I  tell  you,  Paolo,  that  I  do  not  want  your 
advice,  and  that  I  have  had  far  too  much  of  your 
interference.  I  will  inquire  into  this  matter,  so  far 
as  it  concerns  the  law,  and  I  will  show  you  that  I  am 
right,  in  spite  of  all  your  surmises  and  prophecies.  A 
man  is  master  in  his  own  house  and  must  remain  so, 
whatever  laws  are  made.  There  is  no  law  which  can 
force  a  man  to  submit  to  the  dictation  of  his  brother 
— even  if  his  brother  is  a  priest." 

Marzio  spoke  more  calmly  than  he  had  done 
hitherto,  in  spite  of  the  sneer  in  the  last  sentence. 
He  had  broken  down,  and  he  felt  that  Paolo  and 
Gianbattista  were  too  much  for  him.  He  desired  no 
repetition  of  the  scene  which  had  passed,  and  he 
thought  the  best  thing  to  be  done  was  to  temporise 
for  a  while. 

"  I  am  glad  you  are  willing  to  look  into  the  matter," 
answered  Don  Paolo.  "  I  am  quite  sure  you  will 
soon  be  convinced." 

Marzio  was  silent,  and  it  was  evident  that  the  in- 
terview was  at  an  end.  Don  Paolo  was  tolerably  well 
satisfied,  for  he  had  gained  at  least  one  point  in 
forcing   his    brother    to    examine    the    question.       He 


CHAP.  VI  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  133 

remained  a  moment  in  his  seat,  reviewing  the  situa- 
tion, and  asking  himself  whether  there  was  anytliing 
more  to  be  said.  He  wished  indeed  that  he  could 
produce  some  deeper  impression  on  the  artist.  It  was 
not  enough,  from  the  moral  point  of  view,  that  Marzio 
should  be  made  to  see  the  impossibility  of  his  scheme, 
although  it  was  as  much  as  could  be  expected.  The 
good  man  wished  with  all  his  heart  that  Marzio  could 
be  softened  a  little,  that  he  might  be  made  to  consider 
his  daughter's  feelings,  to  betray  some  sign  of  an  affec- 
tion which  seemed  wholly  dead,  to  show  some  more 
human  side  of  his  character.  But  the  situation  at 
present  forbade  Don  Paolo  from  making  any  further 
effort.  The  presence  of  Gianbattista,  who  had  sud- 
denly constituted  himself  the  priest's  defender,  was  a 
constraint.  Alone  with  his  brother,  Marzio  might 
possibly  have  exhibited  some  sensibility,  but  while  the 
young  man  who  had  violently  silenced  him  a  few 
moments  earlier  was  looking  on,  the  chiseller  would 
continue  to  be  angry,  and  would  not  forget  the  humilia- 
tion he  had  suffered.  There  was  nothing  more  to  be 
done  at  present,  and  Don  Paolo  prepared  to  take  his 
departure,  gathering  his  cloak  around  him,  and  smooth- 
ing the  felt  of  his  three-cornered  hat  while  he  held  his 
green  umbrella  under  his  arm. 

"  Are  you  going  already,  Don  Paolo  ? "  asked  Gian- 
battista, rising  to  open  the  door. 


134  MAEZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  CHAP,  vi 

*' Yes,  I  must  go.  Good-bye,  Marzio.  Bear  me  no 
ill-will  for  pressing  you  to  be  cautious.  Good-bye, 
Tista."  He  pressed  the  young  man's  hand  warmly, 
as  though  to  thank  him  for  his  courageous  defence, 
and  then  left  the  workshop.  Marzio  paid  no  attention 
to  his  departure.  When  the  door  was  closed,  and  as 
Gianbattista  was  returning  to  his  bench,  the  artist 
dropped  his  modelling  tools  and  faced  his  apprentice. 

"  You  may  go  too,"  he  said  in  a  low  tone,  as  though 
he  were  choking.  "  I  mean  you  may  go  for  good.  I 
do  not  need  you  any  longer." 

He  felt  in  his  pocket  for  his  purse,  opened  it,  and 
took  out  some  small  notes. 

*'  I  give  you  an  hour  to  take  your  things  from  my 
house,"  he  continued.  "  There  are  your  wages — you 
shall  not  tell  the  priest  that  I  cheated  you." 

Gianbattista  stood  still  in  the  middle  of  the  room 
while  Marzio  held  out  the  money  to  him.  A  hot 
flush  rose  to  his  young  forehead,  and  he  seemed  on 
the  point  of  speaking,  but  the  words  did  not  pass  his 
lips.  With  a  quick  step  he  came  forward,  took  the 
notes  from  Marzio's  hand,  and  crumpling  them  in  his 
fingers,  threw  them  in  his  face  with  all  his  might. 
Then  he  turned  on  his  heel,  spat  on  the  floor  of  the 
room,  and  went  out  before  Marzio  could  find  words  to 
resent  the  fresh  insult, 

Tlie  door  fell  back  on  the   latch  and  Marzio  waa 


CHAP.  VI  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  135 

alone.  He  was  very  pale,  and  for  a  moment  his 
features  worked  angrily.  Then  a  cruel  smile  passed 
over  his  face.  He  stooped  down,  picked  up  the 
crumpled  notes,  counted  them,  and  replaced  them  in 
his  purse.  The  economical  instinct  never  forsook  him, 
and  he  did  the  thing  mechanically.  Glancing  at  the 
bench  his  eyes  fell  on  the  pointed  punch  which  Gian- 
battista  had  taken  up  in  his  anger.  He  felt  it  care- 
fully, handled  it,  looked  at  it,  smiled  again  and  put  it 
into  his  pocket. 

"  It  is  not  a  bad  one,"  he  muttered.  "  How  many 
cherubs'  eyes  I  have  made  with  that  thing ! " 

He  turned  to  the  slate  and  examined  the  rough 
model  he  had  made  in  wax,  flat  still,  and  only  indi- 
cated by  vigorous  touches,  the  red  material  smeared  on 
the  black  surface  all  around  it  by  his  fingers.  There 
was  force  in  the  figure,  even  in  its  first  state,  and 
there  was  a  strange  pathos  in  the  bent  head,  the  only 
part  as  yet  in  high  relief.  But  Marzio  looked  at  it 
angrily.  He  turned  it  to  the  light,  closed  his  eyes  a 
moment,  looked  at  it  again,  and  then,  with  an  inco- 
herent oath,  his  long,  discoloured  hand  descended  on 
the  model,  and,  with  a  heavy  pressure  and  one  strong 
push,  flattened  out  what  he  had  done,  and  smeared  it 
into  a  shapeless  mass  upon  the  dark  stone. 

"  I  shall  never  do  it,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice.  "  They 
have  destroyed  my  idea." 


136  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  CHAt.  vt 

For  some  minutes  he  rested  his  head  in  his  hand  in 
deep  thought.  At  last  he  rose  and  went  to  a  corner 
of  the  workshop  in  which  stood  a  heavily  ironed  box. 
Marzio  fumbled  in  his  pocket  till  he  found  a  key, 
bright  from  always  being  carried  about  with  him,  and 
contrasting  oddly  with  the  rusty  lock  into  which  he 
thrust  it.  It  turned  with  difficulty  in  his  nervous 
fingers,  and  he  raised  the  heavy  lid.  The  coffer  was 
full  of  packages  wrapped  in  brown  paper.  He  removed 
one  after  another  till  he  came  to  a  wooden  case  which 
filled  the  whole  length  and  breadth  of  the  safe.  He 
lifted  it  out  carefully  and  laid  it  on  the  end  of  the 
bench.  The  cover  was  fastened  down  by  screws,  and 
he  undid  them  one  by  one  until  it  moved  and  came 
off  in  his  hands.  The  contents  were  wrapped  carefully 
in  a  fine  towel,  which  had  once  been  wliite,  but  which 
had  long  grown  yellow  with  age.  Marzio  unfolded 
the  covering  with  a  delicate  touch  as  though  he  feared 
to  hurt  what  was  within.  He  took  out  a  large  silver 
crucifix,  raising  it  carefully,  and  taking  care  not  to 
touch  the  figure.  He  stood  it  upon  the  bench  before 
him,  and  sat  down  to  examine  it. 

It  was  a  work  of  rare  beauty,  which  he  had  made 
more  than  ten  years  before.  With  the  strange  reticent 
instinct  which  artists  sometimes  feel  about  their  finest 
works,  he  had  finished  it  in  secret,  working  at  night 
alone,  and  when  it  was  done  he  had  put  it  away.     It 


CHAP.  VI  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  137 

was  his  greatest  feat,  he  had  said  to  himself,  and,  as 
from  time  to  time  he  took  it  out  and  looked  at  it,  he 
gradually  grew  less  and  less  inclined  to  show  it  to  any 
one,  resolving  to  leave  it  in  its  case,  until  it  should  be 
found  after  his  death.  It  had  seemed  priceless  to  him, 
and  he  would  not  sell  it.  With  a  fantastic  eccentricity 
of  reasoning  he  regarded  it  as  a  sacred  thing,  to  part 
with  which  would  be  a  desecration.  So  he  kept  it. 
Then,  taking  it  out  again,  it  had  seemed  less  good  to 
him,  as  his  mind  became  occupied  with  other  things, 
and  he  had  fancied  he  should  do  better  yet.  At  last 
he  screwed  it  up  in  a  wooden  case  and  put  it  at  the 
bottom  of  his  strong  box,  resolving  never  to  look  at  it 
again.  Many  years  had  passed  since  he  had  laid  eyes 
upon  it. 

The  idea  which  had  come  to  him  when  Paolo  had 
communicated  the  order  to  him  on  the  previous  even- 
ing, had  seemed  absolutely  new.  It  had  appeared  to 
him  as  a  glorification  of  the  work  he  had  executed  in 
secret  so  long  ago.  Time,  and  the  habit  of  dissatisfac- 
tion had  effaced  from  his  mind  the  precise  image  of  the 
work  of  the  past,  and  the  emotions  of  the  present  had 
seemed  something  new  to  him.  He  had  drawn  and 
modelled  during  many  hours,  and  yet  he  was  utterly 
disappointed  with  the  new  result.  He  felt  the  innate 
consciousness  of  having  done  it  before,  and  of  having 
done  it  better. 


138  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  vi 

And  now  the  wonderful  masterpiece  of  his  earlier 
years  stood  before  him — the  tall  and  massive  ebony 
cross,  bearing  the  marvellous  figure  of  the  dead  Saviour. 
A  ray  of  sunlight  fell  through  the  grated  window  upon 
the  dying  head,  illuminating  the  points  of  the  thorns 
in  the  crown,  the  falling  locks  of  hair,  the  tortured 
hands,  and  casting  a  shadow  of  death  beneath  the  half- 
closed  eyes. 

For  several  minutes  Marzio  sat  motionless  on  his 
stool,  realising  the  whole  strength  and  beauty  of  what 
he  had  done  ten  years  before.  Then  he  wanted  to  get 
a  better  view  of  it.  It  was  not  high  enough  above 
him,  for  it  Tvas  meant  to  stand  upon  an  altar.  He 
could  not  see  the  face.  He  looked  about  for  something 
upon  which  to  make  it  stand,  but  nothing  was  near. 
He  pushed  away  his  stool,  and  turning  the  cross  a 
little,  so  that  the  sunlight  should  strike  it  at  a  better 
angle,  he  kneeled  down  on  the  floor,  his  hands  resting 
on  the  edge  of  the  bench,  and  he  looked  up  at  the 
image  of  the  dead  Christ. 


CHAPTEE  VII 

When  Don  Paolo  left  the  workshop,  he  immedi- 
ately crossed  over  and  entered  the  street  door  of 
Marzio's  house,  intending  to  tell  Maria  Luisa  and 
Lucia  the  result  of  the  interview.  He  had  not  got  to 
the  top  of  the  first  flight  of  stairs  when  he  heard 
Gianbattista's  step  behind  him,  and  turning  he  saw  the 
young  man's  angry  face. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Tista  ? "  asked  the  priest,  stop- 
ping on  the  steps  and  laying  his  hand  on  the  iron 
railing. 

"  I  am  discharged,  turned  out,  insulted  by  that  ani- 
mal ! "  answered  the  apprentice  hotly.  "  He  is  like  a 
piece  of  wood  !  You  might  as  well  talk  to  a  wall ! 
You  had  only  just  closed  the  door  when  he  pulled  out 
his  imr^e,  counted  my  wages,  and  told  me  to  take  my 
things  from  his  house  in  an  hour.  I  threw  the  money 
in  his  face — the  beast !" 

"  Hush,  Tista,"  said  Don  Paolo.  "  Do  not  be  angry 
— we  will  arrange  it  all  before  night.  He  cannot  do 
without    you,   and    after    all    it    is   my  fault.      Calm 


140  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  vii 

yourself,    Tista,    my    boy — we    will     soon    set    that 
straight." 

«  Yes — in  an  hour  I  will  have  left  the  house.  Then 
it  will  be  straight  enough,  as  you  call  it.  Oh  !  I  would 
like  to  strangle  him !  Dear  Don  Paolo,  nobody  but 
you  can  arrange  this  affair " 

"  Hush,  hush,  Tista.  I  cannot  hear  you  talk  in  this 
way.  Come,  we  will  go  back  to  Marzio.  He  will 
listen  to  reason " 

**  Do  you  know  what  he  said  to  me  not  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  before  you  came  in  ? "  asked  Gianbattista 
quickly,  laying  his  hand  on  the  priest's  arm.  "He 
said  I  might  have  Lucia  and  welcome  if  I  would  kill 
you  !  Do  you  understand  ?  I  wish  you  could  have 
seen  the  look  in  his  eyes ! " 

"No,  no,  my  boy — he  was  angry.  He  did  not 
mean  it." 

"  Mean  it !  Bacchus  !  He  would  kill  you  himself 
if  he  were  not  such  a  dastardly  coward ! " 

Don  Paolo  shook  his  head  with  an  incredulous 
smile,  and  looked  kindly  into  the  young  man's  eyes. 

"  You  have  all  lost  your  heads  over  this  unfortunate 
affair,  Tista.  You  are  all  talking  of  killing  each  other 
and  yourselves  as  though  it  were  as  simple  as  '  good- 
morning.'  It  is  very  wrong  to  talk  of  such  things, 
and  besides,  you  know,  it  is  not  really  worth 
while " 


CHAP.  VII  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  141 

"  It  seems  simple  enough  to  me,"  answered  the 
young  man,  frowning  and  clenching  his  hand. 

"  Come  with  me,"  urged  the  other,  making  as  though 
he  would  descend  the  steps.  "  Come  back  to  the  work- 
shop, and  we  will  talk  it  all  over." 

"  Wait  a  minute,  Don  Paolo.  There  is  one  thing — 
one  favour  I  want  to  ask  of  you."  Gianbattista 
lowered  his  voice.  "  You  can  do  it  for  us — I  am  sure 
you  will.    I  will  call  Lucia,  and  we  will  go  with  you " 

"  Where  ?  "  asked  the  priest,  not  understanding  the 
look  of  the  young  man. 

"  To  church,  of  course.  You  can  marry  us  in  ten 
minutes,  and  the  thing  will  be  all  over.  Then  we  can 
laugh  at  Sor  Marzio." 

Don  Paolo  smiled. 

"  My  dear  boy,"  he  answered,  "  those  things  are  not 
done  in  a  moment  like  roasting  chestnuts.  There  are 
banns  to  be  published.  There  is  a  civil  marriage  at 
the  Capitol " 

"  I  should  be  quite  satisfied  with  your  benediction — 
a  Pater  JVoster,  an  Oremus  properly  said — eh  ?  Would 
it  not  be  all  right  ? " 

"  Eeally,  Tista  ! "  exclaimed  the  good  man,  holding 
up  his  hands  in  horror.  "  I  had  no  idea  that  your 
religious  education  had  been  so  neglected !  My  dear 
child,  marriage  is  a  very  solemn  thing." 

"  By  Diana  !  I  should  think  so  !     But  that  need  not 


142  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  vii 

make  it  such  a  long  ceremony.  A  man  dies  in  a 
moment — pccff  ! — the  light  is  out ! — you  are  dead.  It 
is  very  solemn.  The  same  thing  for  marriage.  The 
priest  looks  at  you,  says  Or  emus — paff !  You  are 
married,  and  it  cannot  be  undone !  I  know  it  is  very 
serious,  but  it  is  only  the  affair  of  a  moment." 

Don  Paolo  did  not  know  whether  to  laugh  or  to 
look  grave  at  this  exposition  of  Gianbattista's  views 
of  death  and  matrimony.  He  put  it  down  to  the  boy's 
excitement. 

"  There  is  another  reason,  Tista.  The  law  does  not 
allow  a  girl  of  seventeen  to  be  married  without  her 
father's  consent." 

"  The  law  again  ! "  exclaimed  Gianbattista  in  disgust. 
"I  thought  the  law  protected  Lucia  from  her  father. 
You  said  so  last  night,  and  you  repeated  it  this  morning." 

"  Certainly,  my  boy.  But  the  law  also  protects 
parents  against  any  rashness  their  children  may  medi- 
tate. It  would  be  no  marriage  if  Lucia  had  not 
Marzio's  consent." 

"  I  wish  there  were  no  laws,"  grumbled  the  young 
man.  "How  do  you  come  to  know  so  much  about 
marriage,  Don  Paolo  ? " 

"  It  is  my  profession.  Come  along ;  we  will  talk  to 
Marzio." 

"  What  can  we  say  to  him  ?  You  do  not  suppose  I 
will  go  and  beg  to  be  taken  back  ? " 


CHAP.  VII  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  "143 

"  You  must  be  fordvin<:5 " 


"  I  believe  in  forgiveness  when  the  other  side 
begins,"  said  Gianbattista. 

"  Perhaps  Marzio  will  forgive  too/'  argued  the  priest. 

"He  has  nothing  to  forgive,"  answered  the  young 
man.      The  reasoning  seemed  to  him  beyond  refutation. 

"But  if  he  says  he  has  no  objection,  if  he  begs  you 
to  come  back,  I  think  you  might  make  some  advance 
on  your  side,  Tista.  Besides,  you  were  very  rough  with 
him  this  morning." 

"  He  turned  me  out  like  a  dog — after  all  these 
years,"  said  Gianbattista.  "  I  will  go  back  and  work 
for  him  on  one  condition.  He  must  give  me  Lucia  at 
once." 

"  I  am  afraid  that  as  a  basis  of  negotiations  that 
plan  leaves  much  to  be  desired,"  replied  Don  Paolo,  in  a 
meditative  tone.  "  Of  course,  we  are  all  determined  that 
you  shall  marry  her  in  the  end ;  but  unless  Providence 
is  pleased  to  change  Marzio's  state  of  mind,  you  may 
have  to  wait  until  she  is  of  age.  He  will  never  con- 
sent at  present." 

"  In  that  case  I  had  better  go  and  take  my  things 
away  from  his  house,"  returned  the  apprentice.  "And 
say  good-bye  to  Lucia — for  a  day  or  two,"  he  added  in 
a  low  voice. 

"  Of  course,  if  you  will  not  agree  to  be  conciliatory 
it  is  of  no  use  for  you   to   come  with  me,"  said  Don 


144  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  vii 

Paolo  rather  sadly.  "  Dear  me  !  Here  comes  Maria 
Luisa  with  Simtarella  !  " 

"  Ah,  dear  Paolo,  dear  Paolo  ! "  cried  the  stout  lady, 
puffing  up  the  stairs  with  the  old  woman  close  behind 
her.  "How  good  you  are!  And  what  did  he  say? 
We  asked  if  you  had  gone  at  the  workshop,  and  they 
said  you  had,  so  Lucia  went  in  to  ask  her  father 
whether  he  would  have  the  chickens  boiled  or  roasted. 
Well,  well,  tell  me  all  about  it.  These  stairs  !  Sun- 
tarella,  run  up  and  open  the  door  while  I  get  my 
breath  !     Dear  Paolo,  you  are  an  angel  of  goodness  ! " 

"  Softly,  Maria  Luisa,"  answered  the  priest.  "  There 
is  good  and  bad.  He  has  admitted  that  he  will  have 
to  consider  the  matter  because  he  cannot  make  Lucia 
marry  without  her  consent.     But  on  the  other  hand — 

poor  Tista "  he   looked   at   the   young  man   and 

hesitated. 

"  He  has  turned  me  out,"  said  Gianbattista.  "  He 
has  given  me  an  hour  to  leave  his  house.  I  believe  a 
good  part  of  the  hour  has  passed  already " 

"  And  Tista  says  he  will  not  go  back  at  any  price," 
put  in  Don  Paolo.  The  Signora  Pandolfi  gasped  for 
breath. 

"  Oh  !  oh  !  I  shall  faint ! "  she  sobbed,  pressing  the 
handle  of  her  parasol  against  her  breast  with  both 
hands.  "  Oh,  what  shall  we  do  ?  We  are  lost ! 
Paolo,  your  arm — I  shall  die  ! " 


CHAP.  VII  MAKZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  145 

"  Courage,  courage,  Maria  Luisa,"  said  the  priest 
kindly.  "We  will  find  a  remedy.  For  the  present 
Tista  can  come  to  my  house.  There  is  the  little  room 
where  the  man-servant  sleeps,  who  is  gone  to  see  his 
sick  wife  in  the  country.  The  Cardinal  will  not 
mind." 

"  But  you  are  not  going  like  this  ? "  cried  the  stout 
lady,  grasping  Gianbattista's  arm  and  looking  into  his 
face  with  an  expression  of  forlorn  bewilderment.  "  You 
cannot  go  to-day — it  is  impossible,  Tista — your  shirts 
are  not  even  ironed  !  Oh  dear  !  oh  dear !  And  I  had 
anticipated  a  feast  because  I  was  sure  that  Marzio 
would  see  reason  before  mid-day,  and  there  are  chickens 
for  dinner — with  rice,  Tista,  just  as  you  like  them — 
oh,  you  cannot  go,  Tista,  1  cannot  let  you  go  ! " 

"  Courage,  Maria  Luisa,"  exhorted  Don  Paolo.  "  It 
is  not  a  question  of  chickens." 

"  Dear  Sora  Luisa,  you  are  too  good/'  said  Gianbat- 
tista.  "  Let  us  go  upstairs  first,  to  begin  with — you 
will  catch  cold  here  on  the  steps.  Come,  come, 
courage,  Sora  Luisa  ! " 

He  took  the  good  woman's  arm  and  led  her  up- 
wards. But  Don  Paolo  stayed  behind.  He  believed 
it  to  be  his  duty  to  return  to  the  workshop,  and  to 
try  and  undo  the  harm  Gianbattista  had  done  himself 
by  the  part  he  had  played  in  the  proceedings  of  the 
The  Signora  "^andolfi  suffered  herself  to  be 
L 


146  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  vii 

led  upstairs,  panting  and  sobbing  as  she  went,  and 
protesting  still  that  Gianbattista  could  not  possibly  be 
allowed  to  leave  the  house. 

When  Don  Paolo  had  parted  from  the  two  women  an 
hour  earlier,  they  had  not  gone  home  as  he  had  supposed, 
but,  chancing  to  meet  old  Assunta  near  the  house,  the 
three  had  gone  together  to  make  certain  necessary 
purchases.  On  their  return  they  had  inquired  for 
Paolo  at  the  workshop,  as  Maria  Luisa  had  explained, 
and  Lucia  had  entered  in  the  confident  expectation  of 
finding  that  the  position  of  things  had  mended  con- 
siderably since  the  early  morning.  Moreover,  since 
the  announcement  of  the  previous  evening,  the  young 
girl  had  not  seen  her  father  alone.  She  wanted  to 
talk  to  him  on  her  own  account,  in  order  to  sound  the 
depth  of  his  determination.  She  was  not  afraid  of 
him.  The  fact  that  for  a  long  time  he  had  regarded 
favourably  the  project  of  her  marriage  with  Gianbat- 
tista had  given  her  a  confidence  which  was  not  to  be 
destroyed  in  a  moment,  even  by  Marzio's  strange 
conduct.  She  passed  through  the  outer  rooms,  nodding 
to  the  workmen,  who  touched  their  caps  to  the  master's 
daughter.  A  little  passage  separated  the  large  work- 
shop from  the  inner  studio.  The  door  at  the  end 
was  not  quite  closed.  Lucia  went  up  to  it,  and  looked 
through  the  opening  to  see  whether  Gianbattista  were 
with  her  father.     The  sight  she  saw  was  so  surprising 


CHAP.  VII  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  147 

that  she  leaned  against  the  door-post  for  support. 
She  could  not  believe  her  eyes. 

There  was  her  father  in  his  woollen  blouse,  kneeling, 
on  the  brick  floor  of  the  room,  before  a  crucifix,  his 
back  turned  towards  her,  his  hands  raised,  and,  as  it 
seemed  from  the  position  of  the  arms,  folded  in  prayer. 
The  sunlight  fell  upon  the  silver  figure,  and  upon  the 
dark  tangled  hair  of  the  artist  who  remained  motionless 
as  though  absorbed  in  devotion,  while  his  daughter 
watched  him  through  the  half-open  door.  The  scene 
was  one  which  would  have  struck  any  one ;  the 
impression  it  made  on  Lucia  was  altogether  extra- 
ordinary. She  easily  fancied  that  Marzio,  after  his 
interview  with  Don  Paolo,  had  felt  a  great  and  sudden 
revulsion  of  sentiment.  She  knew  that  the  priest  had 
not  left  the  studio  many  minutes  before,  and  she 
saw  her  father  apparently  praying  before  a  crucifix. 
A  wonderful  conversion  had  been  effected,  and  the 
result  was  there  manifest  to  the  girl's  eyes. 

She  held  her  breath  and  remained  at  the  door, 
determined  not  to  move  until  Marzio  should  have  risen 
from  his  knees.  To  interrupt  him  at  such  a  moment 
would  have  been  almost  a  sacrilege ;  it  might  produce 
the  most  fatal  results ;  it  would  be  an  intrusion  upon 
the  privacy  of  a  repentant  man.  She  stood  watching 
and  waiting  to  see  what  would  happen. 

Presently  Marzio  moved.      Lucia  thought  he  was 


148  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  vii 

going  to  rise  from  his  knees,  but  she  was  surprised  to 
see  that  he  only  changed  the  position  of  the  crucifix 
with  one  hand.  He  approached  his  head  so  near  the 
lower  part  of  it  that  Lucia  fancied  he  was  in  the  act 
of  pressing  his  lips  upon  the  crossed  feet  of  the  silver 
Christ.  Then  he  drew  back  a  little,  turned  his  head 
to  one  side,  and  touched  the  figure  with  his  right  hand. 
It  was  evident,  now,  that  he  was  no  longer  praying, 
but  that  something  about  the  workmanship  had 
attracted  his  attention. 

How  natural,  the  girl  said  to  herself,  that  this  man, 
even  in  such  a  supreme  moment,  should  not  forget  his 
art — that,  even  in  prayer,  his  eyes  should  mechanically 
detect  an  error  of  the  chisel,  a  flaw  in  the  metal,  or 
some  such  detail  familiar  to  his  daily  life.  She  did 
not  think  the  worse  of  him  for  it.  He  was  an  artist ! 
The  habit  of  his  whole  existence  could  not  cease  to 
influence  him  —  he  could  as  soon  have  ceased  to 
breathe.  Lucia  watched  him  and  felt  something  like 
love  for  her  father.  Her  sympathy  was  with  him  in 
both  actions ;  in  his  silent  prayer,  in  the  inner  privacy 
of  his  working-room,  as  well  as  in  the  inherent  love  of 
his  art,  from  which  he  could  not  escape  even  when  he 
was  doing  something  contrary  to  the  whole  tenor  of 
his  life.  Lucia  thought  how  Don  Paolo's  face  would 
light  up  when  she  should  tell  him  of  what  she  had 
seen.      Then  she  wondered,  with  a  delicate  sense  of 


CHAP.  VII  IVIARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  149 

respect  for  her  father's  secret  feelings,  whether  she 
would  have  the  right  to  tell  any  one  what  she  had 
accidentally  seen  through  the  half-closed  door  of  the 
studio. 

Marzio  moved  again,  and  this  time  he  rose  to  his 
feet  and  remained  standing,  so  that  the  crucifix  was 
completely  hidden  from  her  view.  She  knocked  at 
the  door.  Her  father  turned  suddenly  round,  and 
faced  the  entrance,  still  hiding  the  crucifix  by  his  figure. 

"  Who  is  it  ?"  he  asked  in  a  tone  that  sounded  as 
though  he  were  startled. 

"  Lucia,"  answered  the  girl  timidly.  "  May  I  come 
in,  papa  ? " 

"Wait  a  minute,"  he  answered.  She  drew  back, 
and,  still  watching  him,  saw  that  he  laid  the  cross 
down  upon  the  table,  and  covered  it  with  a  towel — the 
same  one  in  which  it  had  been  wrapped. 

"  Come  in,"  he  called  out.      "  What  is  the  matter  ?" 

"  I  only  came  for  a  moment,  papa,"  answered  Lucia, 
entering  the  room  and  glancing  about  her  as  she  came 
forward.  "  Mamma  sent  me  in  to  ask  you  about  the 
chickens — there  are  chickens  for  dinner — she  wanted 
to  know  whether  you  would  like  them  roasted  or 
boiled  with  rice." 

"  Eoasted,"  replied  Marzio,  taking  up  a  chisel  and 
pretending  to  be  busy.  "  It  is  Gianbattista  who  likes 
them  boiled." 


150  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  CHAP,  vii 

"  Thank  you,  I  will  go  home  and  tell  her.     Papa 
"  the  airl  hesitated. 


"What  is  the  matter?" 

"  Papa,  you  are  not  angry  any  more  as  you  were 
last  night  ? " 

"  Angry  ?  No.  Wliat  makes  you  ask  such  a 
question  ?  I  was  not  angry  last  night,  and  I  am  not 
angry  now.     Who  put  the  idea  into  your  head  ?" 

"  I  am  so  glad,"  answered  Lucia.  "  Not  with  me, 
not  with  Tista  ?  I  am  so  glad  I  Where  is  Tista, 
papa  ?" 

"  I  have  not  the  slightest  idea.  You  will  probably 
not  see  Tista  any  more,  nor  Gianbattista,  nor  his 
excellency  the  Signorino  Bordogni." 

Lucia  turned  suddenly  pale,  and  rested  her  hand 
upon  the  old  straw  chair  on  which  Don  Paolo  had 
sat  during  his  visit. 

"  What  is  this  ?  What  do  you  tell  me  ?  Not  see 
Tista  ?"  she  asked  quickly. 

"  Gianbattista  had  the  bad  taste  to  attack  me  this 
morning — here — in  my  own  studio,"  said  Marzio, 
turning  round  and  facing  his  daughter.  "  He  put  his 
hands  upon  my  face,  do  you  understand  ?  He  would 
have  stabbed  me  with  a  chisel  if  Paolo  had  not 
interfered.  Do  you  understand  that  ?  Out  of  defer- 
ence for  your  affections  I  did  not  kill  him,  as  I  might 
have  done.      I  dismissed  him  from  my  service,  and  gave 


CHAP.  VII  MAKZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  151 

him  an  hour  to  take  his  effects  out  of  my  house.  Is 
that  clear  ?  I  offered  him  his  money.  He  threw  it 
in  my  face  and  spat  at  me  as  he  went  out.  Is  that 
enough  ?  If  I  find  him  at  home  when  I  come  to 
dinner  I  will  have  him  turned  out  by  the  police.  You 
see,  you  are  not  likely  to  set  eyes  on  him  for  a  day  or 
two.  You  may  go  home  and  teU  your  mother  the 
news,  if  she  has  not  heard  it  already.  It  will  be  sauce 
for  her  chickens." 

Lucia  leaned  upon  the  chair  during  this  speech,  her 
black  eyes  growing  wider  and  wider,  and  her  face 
turning  whiter  at  every  word.  To  her  it  seemed,  in 
this  first  moment,  like  a  hopeless  separation  from  the 
man  she  loved.  With  a  sudden  movement  she  sprang 
forward,  and  fell  on  her  knees  at  Marzio's  feet. 

"  Oh,  my  father,  I  beseech  you,  in  the  name  of 
heaven,"  she  cried  wildly. 

"  It  is  not  of  the  slightest  use,"  answered  Marzio, 
drawing  back.  Lucia  knelt  for  one  moment  before 
him,  with  upturned  face,  an  expression  of  imploring 
despair  on  her  features.  Then  she  sank  down  in  a 
heap  upon  the  floor  against  the  three-legged  stool, 
which  tottered,  lost  its  balance  under  her  weight,  and 
fell  over  upon  the  bricks  with  a  loud  crash.  The  poor 
girl  had  fainted  away. 

Marzio  was  startled  by  the  sight  and  the  sound,  and 
then,  seeing  what  had   happened,  he  was  very  much 


152  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  vii 

frightened.  He  knelt  down  beside  his  daughter's 
prostrate  body  and  bent  over  her  face.  He  raised 
her  up  in  his  long,  nervous  arms,  and  lifted  her  to 
the  old  chair  till  she  sat  upon  it,  and  he  supported 
her  head  and  body,  kneeling  on  the  floor  beside  her. 
A  sharp  pain  shot  through  his  heart,  the  faint  indica- 
tion of  a  love  not  wholly  extinguished. 

"  Lucia,  dear  Lucia !"  he  said,  in  a  voice  so  tender 
that  it  sounded  strangely  in  his  own  ears.  But  the 
girl  gave  no  sign.  Her  head  would  have  fallen  for- 
ward if  he  had  not  supported  it  with  his  hands. 

"  My  daughter  !  Little  Lucia  !  You  are  not  dead 
— tell  me  you  are  not  dead  !"  he  cried.  In  his  fright 
and  sudden  affection  he  pressed  his  lips  to  her  face, 
kissing  her  again  and  again.  "  I  did  not  mean  to  hurt 
you,  darling  child,"  he  repeated,  as  though  she  could 
hear  him  speak. 

At  last  her  eyes  opened.  A  shiver  ran  through  her 
body  and  she  raised  her  head.  She  was  very  pale  as 
she  leaned  back  in  the  chair.  Marzio  took  her  hands 
and  rubbed  them  between  his  dark  fingers,  still  looking 
into  her  eyes. 

"  Ah  !"  she  gasped,  "  I  thought  I  was  dead."  Then, 
as  Marzio  seemed  about  to  speak,  she  added  faintly  : 
"Don't  say  it  again!" 

"  Lucia — dear  Lucia  !  I  knew  you  were  not  dead. 
I  knew  you  would  come  back  to  me,"  he  said,  still  in 


CHAP.  VII  MAEZIO'S    CKUCIFIX  153 

very  tender  tones.  "Forgive  me,  child — I  did  not 
mean  to  hurt  you." 

"JSTo?  Oh,  papa!  Then  why  did  you  say  it?" 
she  cried,  suddenly  bursting  into  tears  and  weeping 
upon  his  shoulder.  "  Tell  me  it  is  not  true — tell  me 
so!"  she  sobbed. 

Marzio  was  almost  as  much  disconcerted  by  Lucia's 
return  to  consciousness  as  he  had  been  by  her  fainting 
away.  His  nature  had  unbent,  momentarily,  under 
the  influence  of  his  strong  fear  for  his  daughter's  life. 
Now  that  she  had  recovered  so  quickly,  he  remembered 
Gianbattista's  violence  and  scornful  words,  and  he 
seemed  to  feel  the  young  man's  strong  hand  upon 
his  mouth,  stifling  his  speech.  He  hesitated,  rose  to 
his  feet,  and  began  to  pace  the  floor.  Lucia  watched 
him  with  intense  anxiety.  There  was  a  conflict  in  his 
mind  between  the  resentment  which  was  not  half  an 
hour  old,  and  the  love  for  his  child,  which  had  been  so 
quickly  roused  during  the  last  five  minutes. 

"  Well — Lucia,  my  dear — I  do  not  know "  he 

stopped  short  in  his  walk  and  looked  at  her. 
She  leaned  forward  as  though  to  catch  his 
words. 

"  Do  you  think  you  could  not — that  you  would  be 
so  very  unhappy,  I  mean,  if  he  lived  out  of  the  house 
— I  mean  to  say,  if  he  had  lodgings,  somewhere,  and 
came  back  to  work  ?" 


154  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  vii 

''  Oh,  papa — I  should  faint  away  again — and  I  should 
die.      I  am  quite  sure  of  it." 

Marzio  looked  anxiously  at  her,  as  though  he  ex- 
pected to  see  her  fall  to  the  ground  a  second  time. 
It  went  against  the  grain  of  his  nature  to  take  Gian- 
battista  back,  although  he  had  discharged  him  h^astily 
in  the  anger  of  the  moment.  He  turned  away  and 
glanced  at  the  bench.  There  were  the  young  man's 
tools,  the  hammer  as  he  had  left  it,  the  piece  of  work 
on  the  leathern  pad.  The  old  impulse  of  foresight  for 
the  future  acted  in  Marzio's  mind.  He  could  never 
find  such  another  workman.  In  the  uncertainty  of 
the  moment,  as  often  happens,  details  rose  to  his  re- 
membrance and  produced  their  effect.  He  recollected 
the  particular  way  in  which  Gianbattista  used  to  hold 
the  blunt  chisel  in  first  tracing  over  the  drawing  on 
a  silver  plate.  He  had  never  seen  any  one  do  it  in 
the  same  way. 

"  Well,  Lucia — don't  faint  away.  If  you  can  make 
him  stay,  I  will  take  him  back.  But  I  am  afraid  you 
will  have  hard  work.  He  will  make  difficulties.  He 
threw  the  money  in  my  face,  Lucia — in  your  father's 
face,  girl !  Think  of  that.  Well,  well,  do  what  you 
like.  He  is  a  good  workman.  Go  away,  child, 
and  leave  me  to  myself  What  will  you  say  to 
him?" 

Lucia  threw  her  arms  round  her  father's  neck  and 


CHAP.  VII  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  155 

kissed  him  in  her  sudden  joy.  Then  she  stood  a 
moment  in  thought. 

"  Give  me  his  money,"  she  said.  "  If  he  will  take 
the  money  he  will  come  back." 

Marzio  hesitated,  slowly  drew  out  his  purse,  and 
began  to  take  out  the  notes. 

"  Well — if  you  will  have  it  so,"  he  grumbled.  "After 
all,  as  he  threw  it  away,  I  do  not  see  that  he  has  much 
right  to  it.  There  it  is.  If  he  says  anything  about 
that  ten-franc  note  being  torn,  tell  him  he  tore  it 
himself.  Go  home,  Lucia,  and  manage  things  as  you 
can. 

Lucia  put  the  money  in  her  glove,  and  busied  her- 
self for  a  moment  in  brushing  the  dust  from  her  clothes. 
Mechanically,  her  father  helped  her. 

''  You  are  quite  sure  you  did  not  hurt  yourself  ?"  he 
asked.  The  whole  occurrence  seemed  indistinct,  as 
though  some  one  had  told  something  which  he  had 
not  understood — as  we  sometimes  listen  to  a  person 
reading  aloud,  and,  missing  by  inattention  the  verb  of 
the  sentence,  remain  confused,  and  ask  ourselves  what 
the  words  mean. 

«  No — not  at  all.  It  is  nothing,"  answered  Lucia, 
and  in  a  moment  she  was  at  the  door. 

Opening  it  to  go  out,  she  saw  the  tall  figure  of  Lon 
Paolo  at  the  other  end  of  the  passage  coming  rapidly 
towards  her.     She  raised  her  finger  to  her  lips  and 


156  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  vii 

nodded,  as  though  to  explain  that  everything  was 
settled,  and  that  the  priest  should  not  speak  to  Marzio. 
She,  of  course,  did  not  know  that  he  had  been  talking 
with  Gianbattista  and  her  mother,  nor  that  he  knew 
anything  about  the  apprentice's  dismissal.  She  only 
feared  fresh  trouble,  now  that  the  prospect  looked  so 
much  clearer,  in  case  Don  Paolo  should  again  attack 
her  father  upon  the  subject  of  the  marriage.  But  her 
uncle  came  forward  and  made  as  though  he  would 
enter  the  workshop. 

"It  is  all  settled,"  she  said  quietly.  Don  Paolo 
looked  at  her  in  astonishment.  At  that  moment 
Marzio  caught  sight  of  him  over  the  girl's  shoulder,  in 
the  dusky  entrance. 

"Come  in,  Paolo,"  he  called  out.  "I  have 
something  to  show  you.  Go  home,  Lucia,  my 
child." 

Not  knowing  what  to  expect,  and  marvelling  at  the 
softened  tone  of  his  brother's  voice,  Don  Paolo  entered 
the  room,  waited  till  Lucia  was  out  of  the  passage,  and 
then  closed  the  door  behind  him.  He  stood  in  the 
middle  of  the  floor,  grasping  his  umbrella  in  his  hand 
and  wondering  upon  what  new  phase  the  business  was 
entering. 

"  I  have  something  to  show  you,"  Marzio  repeated, 
as  though  to  check  any  question  which  the  priest 
might  be  going  to  put  to  him.     "  You  asked  me  for  a 


CHAP,   VII 


MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  157 


crucifix  last  night.  I  have  one  here.  Will  it  do  ? 
Look  at  it." 

While  speaking,  Marzio  had  uncovered  the  cross 
and  lifted  it  up,  so  that  it  stood  on  the  bench  where 
he  had  at  first  placed  it  to  examine  it  himself.  Then 
he  stepped  back  and  made  way  for  Don  Paolo.  The 
priest  stood  for  a  moment  speechless  before  the  master- 
piece, erect,  liis  hands  folded  before  him.  Then,  as 
though  recollecting  himself,  he  took  off  his  hat,  which 
he  had  forgotten  to  remove  on  entering  the  work- 
shop. 

"  What  a  miracle  !"   he  exclaimed,  in  a  low  voice. 

Marzio  stood  a  little  behind  him,  his  hands  in  the 
pockets  of  his  woollen  blouse.  A  long  silence  followed. 
Don  Paolo  could  not  find  words  to  express  his  admira- 
tion, and  his  wonder  was  mixed  with  a  profound  feel- 
ing of  devotion.  The  amazing  reality  of  the  figure, 
clothed  at  the  same  time  in  a  sort  of  divine  glory, 
impressed  itself  upon  him  as  he  gazed,  and  roused  that 
mystical  train  of  religious  contemplation  which  is  both 
familiar  and  dear  to  devout  persons.  He  lost  himself 
in  his  thoughts,  and  his  refined  features  showed  as  in 
a  mirror  the  current  of  his  meditation.  The  agony  of 
the  Saviour  of  mankind  was  renewed  before  him,  cul- 
minating in  the  sacrifice  upon  the  cross.  Involuntarily 
Paolo  bent  his  head  and  repeated  in  low  tones  the 
words  of  the  Creed,  "  Qui  proxder  nos  homines  et  propter 


158  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  vir 

Thostram  salutem  descendit  de  coelis^'  and  then,  "  Cruci- 
fixus  etiam  pro  nobis.'* 

Marzio  stood  looking  on,  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 
His  fingers  grasped  the  long  sharp  punch  he  had  taken 
from  the  table  after  Gianbattista's  departure.  His 
eyes  fixed  themselves  upon  the  smooth  tonsure  at  the 
back  of  Paolo's  head,  and  slowly  his  right  hand  issued 
from  his  pocket  with  the  sharp  instrument  firmly 
clenched  in  it.  He  raised  it  to  the  level  of  his  head, 
just  above  that  smooth  shaven  circle  in  the  dark  hair. 
His  eyes  dilated  and  his  mouth  worked  nervously  as 
the  pale  lips  stretched  themselves  across  the  yellow  teeth. 

Don  Paolo  moved,  and  turned  to  speak  to  his  brother 
concerning  the  work  of  art.  Seeing  Marzio's  attitude, 
he  started  with  a  short  cry  and  stretched  out  his  arm 
as  though  to  parry  a  blow. 

"Marzio!" 

The  artist  had  quickly  brought  his  hand  to  his 
forehead,  and  the  ghastly  affectation  of  a  smile  wreathed 
about  his  white  lips.      His  voice  was  thick. 

"  I  was  only  shading  my  eyes  from  the  sun. 
Don't  you  see  how  it  dazzles  me,  reflected  from  the 
silver  ?  What  did  you  imagine,  Paolo  ?  You  look 
frightened." 

"Oh,  nothing,"  answered  the  priest  bravely.  "Per- 
haps I  am  a  little  nervous  to-day." 

"  Bacchus  !     It  looks  lilce  it,"  said  Marzio,  with  an 


CHAP.  VII  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  159 

attempt  to  laugh.  Then  he  tossed  the  tool  upon  the 
table  among  the  rest  with  an  impatient  gesture. 
"  What  do  you  think  of  the  crucifix  ? " 

"  It  is  very  wonderful,"  said  Paolo,  controlling 
himself  by  an  effort.  "  Wlien  did  you  make  it, 
Marzio  ?     You  have  not  had  time " 

"  I  made  it  years  ago,"  answered  the  chiseller,  turn- 
ing his  face  away  to  hide  his  pallor.  "  I  made  it  for 
myself.  I  never  meant  to  show  it,  but  I  believe  I 
cannot  do  anything  better.  Will  it  do  for  your  car- 
dinal ?  Look  at  the  work.  It  is  as  fine  as  anything 
of  the  kind  in  the  world,  though  I  say  it.  Yes — it  is 
cast.  Of  course,  you  do  not  understand  the  art,  Paolo, 
but  I  will  explain  it  all  to  you  in  a  few  minutes " 

Marzio  talked  very  fast,  almost  incoherently,  and 
he  was  evidently  struggling  with  an  emotion.  Paolo, 
standing  back  a  little  from  the  bench,  nodded  his  head 
from  time  to  time. 

"  It  is  all  v-ery  simple,"  continued  the  artist,  as 
though  he  dared  not  pause  for  breath.  "You  see 
one  sometimes  makes  little  figures  of  real  repoussi, 
half  and  half,  done  in  cement  and  then  soldered  to- 
gether so  that  they  look  like  one  piece,  but  it  is 
impossible  to  do  them  well  unless  you  have  dies  to 
press  the  plate  into  the  first  shape — and  the  die 
always  makes  the  same  figure,  though  you  can  vary 
the  face  and  twist  the  arms  and  legs  about.      Cheap 


160  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  vii 

silver  crucifixes  and  angels  and  those  things  are  all 
made  in  that  way,  and  with  care  a  great  deal  can  be 
done,  of  course,  to  give  them  an  artistic  look." 

"  Of  course,"  assented  Don  Paolo,  in  a  low  voice. 
He  thought  he  understood  the  cause  of  his  brother's 
eloquence. 

"  Yes,  of  course,"  continued  Marzio,  as  rapidly  as 
before.  "  But  to  make  a  really  good  thing  like  this, 
is  a  different  matter.  A  very  different  matter.  Here 
you  must  model  your  figure  in  wax,  and  make  moulds 
of  the  parts  of  it,  and  chisel  each  part  separately, 
copying  the  model.  And  then  you  must  join  all  the 
parts  together  with  silver-soldering,  and  go  over  the 
lines  carefully.  It  needs  the  most  delicate  handling, 
for  although  the  casting  is  very  heavy  it  is  not  like 
working  on  a  chalice  that  is  filled  with  cement  and  all 
arranged  for  you,  that  can  be  put  in  the  fire,  melted 
out,  softened,  cooled,  and  worked  over  as  often  as  you 
please.  There  is  no  putting  in  the  fire  here — not 
more  than  once  after  you  have  joined  the  pieces.  Do 
you  understand  me  ?  Why  do  you  look  at  me  in  that 
way,  Paolo  ?    You  look  as  though  you  did  not  follow  me.'* 

"  On  the  contrary,"  said  the  priest,  "  I  think  I  un- 
derstand it  very  well — as  well  as  an  outsider  can 
understand  such  a  process.  No — I  merely  look  at 
the  finished  work.  It  is  superb,  Marzio — magnificent  I 
I  have  never  seen  anything  like  it," 


CHAP.  VII  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  161 

"Well,  you  may  have  it  to-night,"  said  Marzio, 
turning  away,  and  walking  about  the  room.  "  I  will 
touch  it  over.  I  can  improve  it  a  little.  I  have 
learned  something  in  ten  years.  I  will  work  all  to- 
day, and  I  will  bring  it  home  this  evening  to  show 
Maria  Luisa.      Then  you  may  take  it  away." 

"  And  the  price  ?  I  must  be  able  to  tell  the 
Cardinal." 

"  Oh,  never  mind  the  price.  I  will  be  content  to 
take  whatever  he  gives  me,  since  it  is  going.  No 
price  would  represent  the  labour.  Indeed,  Paolo,  if  it 
were  any  one  but  you,  I  would  not  let  it  go.  Nothing 
but  my  affection  for  you  would  make  me  give  it  to 
you.  It  is  the  gem  of  my  studio.  Ah,  how  I  worked 
at  it  ten  years  ago  ! " 

"  Thank  you.  I  think  I  understand,"  answered  the 
priest.  "I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,  Marzio,  and 
I  assure  you  it  will  be  appreciated.  I  must  be  going. 
Thank  you  for  showing  it  to  me.  I  will  come  and  get 
it  to-night." 

"Well,  good-bye,  Paolo,"  said  Marzio.  "Here  is 
your  umbrella." 

As  Don  Paolo  turned  away  to  leave  the  room,  the 
artist  looked  curiously  at  the  tonsure  on  his  head,  and 
his  eyes  followed  it  until  Paolo  had  covered  it  with  his 
hat.  Then  he  closed  the  door  and  went  back  to  the 
bench. 

M 


CHAPTER   YIII 

Lucia  hastened  homewards  with  the  good  news  she 
bore.  Her  young  nature  was  elastic,  and,  in  the 
sudden  happiness  of  having  secured  Gianbattista's 
recall,  she  quickly  recovered  from  the  shock  she  had 
received.  She  did  not  reflect  very  much,  for  she  had 
not  the  time.  It  had  all  happened  so  quickly  that 
her  senses  were  confused,  and  she  only  knew  that  the 
man  she  loved  must  be  in  despair,  and  that  the  sooner 
she  reached  him  the  sooner  she  would  be  able  to 
relieve  him  from  what  he  must  be  suffering.  Hei 
breath  came  fast  as  she  reached  the  top  of  the 
stairs,  and  she  panted  as  she  rang  the  bell  of  the  lodg- 
ing. Apparently  she  had  rung  so  loud  in  her  excite- 
ment as  to  rouse  the  suspicions  of  old  Assunta,  who 
cautiously  peered  through  the  little  square  that  opened 
behind  a  grating  in  the  door,  before  she  raised  the 
latch.  On  seeing  Lucia  she  began  to  laugh,  and  opened 
quickly. 

«  So  loud  !"   chuckled  the  old  thing.     "  I  thought  it 
was  the  police  or  Sor  Marzio  in  a  rage." 


CHAP.  VIII  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  163 

Lucia  did  not  heed  her,  but  ran  quickly  on  to  the 
sitting-room,  where  the  Signora  Pandolfi  was  alone, 
seated  on  her  straight  chair  and  holding  her  bonnet  in 
her  hand,  the  bonnet  with  the  purple  glass  grapes  ;  she 
was  the  picture  of  despair.  Lucia  made  haste  to  com- 
fort her. 

"  Do  not  cry,  mamma,"  she  said  quickly.  "  I  have 
arranged  it  all.  I  have  seen  papa.  I  have  brought 
Tista's  money.  Papa  wants  him  to  stay  after  all. 
Yes — I  know  you  cannot  guess  how  it  all  happened. 
I  went  in  to  ask  about  the  chickens,  and  then  I  asked 
about  Tista,  and  he  told  me  that  I  should  not  see  him 
any  more,  and  then — then  I  felt  this  passion  — 
here  in  the  chest,  and  everything  went  round  and 
round  and  round  like  a  whirligig  at  the  Termini,  and  I 
fell  right  down,  mamma,  down  upon  the  bricks — I 
know,  my  frock  is  all  dusty  still,  here,  look,  and  here, 
but  what  does  it  matter  ?  Patience  !  I  fell  down  like 
a  sack  of  flour — pata  tunfate  !" 

"  T-t-t-t ! "  exclaimed  the  Signora  Pandolfi,  holding 
up  her  hands  and  drawing  in  her  breath  as  she  clacked 
her  tongue  against  the  roof  of  her  mouth.  "  T-t-t-t ! 
What  a  pity  ! " 

"  And  when  I  came  to  my  senses — I  had  fainted, 
you  understand — I  was  sitting  on  the  old  straw  chair 
and  papa  was  holding  my  hands  in  his  and  calling  me 
his  angel !    Capperi  !     But  it  was  worth  while.     You 


164  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  viii 

can  imagine  the  situation  when  he  called  me  an  angel  1 
It  is  the  first  time  I  have  ever  fainted,  mamma — you 
have  no  idea — it  was  so  curious  ! " 

"  Ah,  my  dear,  it  must  have  softened  his  heart ! " 
cried  Maria  Luisa.  "  If  I  could  only  faint  away  like 
that  once  in  a  while !  Who  knows  ?  He  might  be 
converted.  But  what  would  you  have  ?  "  The  sig- 
nora  glanced  down  sadly  at  her  figure,  which  certainly 
suggested  no  such  weakness  as  she  seemed  to  desire. 
"  Well,  Lucia,"  she  continued,  "  and  then  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  talked  to  him,  I  implored  him,  I  told  him 
I  should  probably  faint  again,  and,  indeed,  I  felt  like 
it.  So  he  said  I  might  have  my  way,  and  he  told  me 
to  come  home  and  tell  Tista  at  once.  Where  is 
Tista  ? " 

"  Eh  !  He  is  in  his  room,  packing  up  his  things.  I 
will  go  and  call  him.  Oh  dear  !  What  a  wonderful 
day  this  is,  my  child  !  To  think  that  it  is  not  yet 
eleven  o'clock,  and  all  that  has  happened  !  It  is 
enough  to  make  a  woman  crazy,  fit  to  send  to  Santo 
Spirito.  First  you  are  to  be  married,  and  then  you 
are  not  to  be  married  !  Then  Gianbattista  is  sent 
away — after  all  these  years,  and  such  a  good  boy  ! 
And  then  he  is  taken  back  !  And  then — but  the 
chickens,  Lucia,  you  forgot  to  ask  about  the  chickens 


"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  answered   the   young   girl. 


CHAP.  VIII  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  165 

asked  first,  before  lie  told  me.  Afterwards,  I  don't 
know — I  should  not  have  had  the  strength  to  speak 
of  chickens.  He  said  roasted,  mamma.  Poor  Tista  ! 
He  likes  them  with  rice.  Well,  one  cannot  have 
everything  in  this  world." 

The  Signora  Pandolfi  had  reached  the  door,  and 
called  out  at  the  top  of  her  voice  to  the  young  man. 

"Tista!  Tista!"  She  could  have  been  heard  in 
the  street. 

"  Eh,  Sora  Luisa  1  We  are  not  in  the  Piazza 
Navona,"  said  Gianbattista,  appearing  at  the  door  of 
his  little  room.      "  What  has  happened  ? " 

"  Go  and  talk  to  Lucia,"  answered  the  good  lady, 
hurrying  off  in  search  of  Assunta  to  tell  her  the  de- 
cision concerning  the  dinner. 

Gianbattista  entered  the  sitting-room,  and,  from 
the  young  girl's  radiant  expression,  he  guessed  that 
some  favourable  change  had  taken  place  in  his  posi- 
tion, or  in  the  positions  of  them  both.  Lucia  began 
to  tell  him  what  had  passed,  and  gave  much  the  same 
account  as  she  had  given  to  her  mother,  though  some 
of  the  intonations  were  softer,  and  accompanied  by 
looks  which  told  her  happiness.  When  she  had  ex- 
plained the  situation  she  paused  for  an  answer.  Gian- 
battista stood  beside  her  and  held  her  hand,  but  he 
looked  out  of  the  window,  as  though  uncertain  what 
to  say. 


166  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  viii 

"  Here  is  the  money,"  said  Lucia.  "  You  will  take 
it,  won't  you  ?  Then  it  will  be  all  settled.  What  is 
the  matter,  Tista  ?     Are  you  not  glad  ?  " 

"I  do  not  trust  him,"  answered  the  young  man. 
"  It  is  not  like  him  to  change  his  mind  like  that,  all 
in  a  minute.     He  means  some  mischief." 

"  What  can  he  do  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know.  I  feel  as  if  some  evil  were  com- 
ing. Patience  !  Who  knows  ?  You  are  an  angel, 
Lucia,  darling." 

"  Everybody  is  telling  me  so  to-day,"  answered  the 
young  girl.      "  Papa,  you " 

"Of  course.  It  is  quite  true,  my  heart,  and  so 
every  one  repeats  it.  What  do  you  think  ?  Will  he 
come  home  to  dinner  ?  It  is  only  eleven  o'clock — 
perhaps  I  ought  to  go  back  and  work  at  the  ewer. 
Somehow  I  do  not  want  to  see  him  just  now " 

"  Stay  with  me,  Tista.  Besides,  you  were  packing 
up  your  belongings  to  go  away.  You  have  a  right  to 
take  an  hour  to  unpack  them.  Tell  me,  what  is  this 
idea  you  have  that  papa  is  not  in  earnest  ?  I  want 
to  understand  it.  He  was  quite  in  earnest  just  now 
— so  good,  so  good,  like  sugar !  Is  it  because  you  are 
still  angry  with  him,  that  you  do  not  want  to  see 
him?" 

*'  No — why  should  I  still  be  angry  ?  He  has  made 
reparation.    After  all,  I  took  a  certain  liberty  with  him." 


CHAP.  VIII  MAKZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  167 

"  That  is  all  the  more  reason.  If  he  is  willing  to 
forget  it — but  I  could  tell  you  something,  Tista,  some- 
thing that  would  persuade  you." 

"  What  is  it,  my  treasure  ? "  asked  Gianbattista 
with  a  smile,  bending  down  to  look  into  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  something  very  wonderful,  something  of  which 
you  would  never  dream.  I  could  scarcely  believe  my 
eyes.  Imagine,  when  I  went  to  find  him  just  now, 
the  door  was  open.  I  looked  through  before  I  went 
in,  to  see  if  you  were  there.  Do  you  know  what  papa 
was  doing  ?  He  was  kneeling  on  the  floor  before  a 
beautiful  crucifix,  such  a  beautiful  one.  I  think  he 
was  saying  prayers,  but  I  could  not  see  his  face.  He 
stayed  a  long  time,  and  then  when  I  knocked  he 
covered  it  up,  was  not  that  strange  ?  That  is  the 
reason  why  I  persuaded  him  so  easily  to  change  his 
mind." 

Gianbattista  smiled  incredulously.  He  had  often 
seen  Marzio  kneel  on  the  floor  to  get  a  different  view 
of  a  large  piece  of  work. 

"  He  was  only  looking  at  the  work,"  he  answered. 
"  I  have  seen  him  do  it  very  often.  He  would  laugh 
if  he  could  hear  you,  Lucia.  Do  you  imagine  he  is 
such  a  man  as  that  ?  Perhaps  it  would  not  do  him 
any  harm  —  a  little  praying.  But  it  is  a  kind  of 
medicine  he  does  not  reUsh.  No,  Lucia,  you  have 
been  deceived,  believe  me." 


168  MAEZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  vni 

The  girl's  expression  changed.  She  had  quite  per- 
suaded herself  that  a  great  moral  change  had  taken 
place  in  her  father  that  morning,  and  had  built  many 
hopes  upon  it.  To  her  sanguine  imagination  it  seemed 
as  though  his  whole  nature  must  have  changed.  She 
had  seen  visions  of  him  as  she  had  always  wished  he 
might  be,  and  the  visions  had  seemed  likely  to  be 
realised.  She  had  doubted  whether  she  should  tell 
any  one  the  story  of  what  she  regarded  as  Marzio's 
conversion,  but  she  had  made  an  exception  in  favour 
of  Gianbattista.  Gianbattista  simply  laughed,  and 
explained  the  matter  away  in  half  a  dozen  words. 
Lucia  was  more  deeply  disappointed  than  any  one, 
listening  to  her  light  talk,  could  have  believed  possible. 
Her  face  expressed  the  pain  she  felt,  and  she  protested 
against  the  apprentice's  explanation. 

"  It  is  too  bad  of  you,  Tista,"  she  said  in  hurt  tones. 
"  But  I  do  not  think  you  are  right.  You  have  no 
idea  how  quietly  he  knelt,  and  his  hands  were  folded 
on  the  bench.  He  bent  his  head  once,  and  I  believe 
he  kissed  the  feet — I  wish  you  could  have  seen  it,  you 
would  not  doubt  me.  You  think  I  have  invented  a 
silly  tale,  I  am  sure  you  do." 

The  tears  filled  her  eyes  as  she  turned  away  and 
stared  vacantly  out  of  the  window  at  the  dark  houses 
opposite.  The  sun,  which  had  been  shining  until  that 
moment,  disappeared  behind  a  mass  of  driving  clouds, 


CHAP.  VIII  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  169 

and  a  few  drops  of  rain  began  to  beat  against  the 
panes  of  glass.  The  world  seemed  suddenly  more 
dreary  to  Lucia.  Gianbattista,  who  was  sensitive 
where  she  was  concerned,  looked  at  her,  and  under- 
stood that  he  had  destroyed  something  in  which  she 
had  wished  to  believe. 

"  Well,  well,  my  heart,  perhaps  you  are  right,"  he 
said  softly,  putting  his  arm  round  her, 

"  No,  you  do  not  believe  it,"  she  answered. 

"  For  you,  I  will  believe  in  anytliing,  in  everything 
— even  in  Sor  Marzio's  devotions,"  he  said,  pressing 
her  to  his  side.  "  Only — you  see,  darling,  he  was 
talking  in  such  a  way  a  few  moments  before — that  it 
seemed  impossible " 

"  Nothing  is  quite  impossible,"  replied  Lucia.  "  The 
heart  beats  fast.  There  may  be  a  whole  world  between 
one  beat  and  the  next." 

"  Yes,  my  love,"  assented  Gianbattista,  looking  ten- 
derly into  her  eyes.  "  But  do  you  think  that  between 
all  the  beatings  of  our  two  hearts  there  could  ever  be 
a  world  of  change  ?  " 

"  Ah — that  is  different,  Tista.  Why  should  we 
change  ?  We  could  only  change  for  worse  if  we 
began  to  love  each  other  less,  and  that  is  impossible. 
But  papa  !  AVhy  should  he  not  change  for  the  better  ? 
Who  can  tell  you,  Tista,  dear,  that  in  a  moment,  in  a 
second,  after  you  were  gone,  he  was  not  sorry  for  all 


170  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  viii 

he  had  done  ?  It  may  have  been  in  an  instant.  Why 
not  ? " 

"  Things  done  so  very  quickly  are  not  done  well/' 
answered  the  young  man.  "  I  know  that  from  my  art. 
You  may  stamp  a  thing  in  a  moment  with  the  die — it 
is  rough,  unfinished.      It  takes  weeks  to  chisel  it " 

"  The  good  God  is  not  a  chiseUer,  Tista." 

The  words  fell  very  simply  from  the  young  girl's 
lips,  and  the  expression  of  her  face  did  not  change. 
Only  the  tone  of  her  voice  was  grave  and  quiet,  and 
there  was  a  depth  of  conviction  in  it  which  struck 
Gianbattista  forcibly.  In  a  short  sentence  she  had 
defined  the  difference  between  his  mode  of  thought  and 
her  own.  To  her  mind  omnipotence  was  a  reality. 
To  him,  it  was  an  inconceivable  power,  the  absurdity 
of  whicli  he  sought  to  demonstrate  by  comparing  the 
magnitude  claimed  for  it  with  the  capacities  of  man. 
He  remained  silent  for  a  moment,  as  though  seeking 
an  answer.  He  found  none,  and  w^hat  he  said  ex- 
pressed an  aspiration  and  not  a  retort. 

*'  I  sometimes  wish  that  I  could  believe  as  you  do," 
he  said.  "  I  am  sure  I  could  do  much  greater  things, 
make  much  more  beautiful  angels,  if  I  were  quite  sure 
that  they  existed." 

"  Of  course  you  could,"  answered  Lucia.  Then, 
with  a  tact  beyond  her  years,  she  changed  the  subject 
of  their  talk.      She  would  not  endanger  the  durability 


CHAP.  VIII  J.IAKZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  I7l 

of  his  aspiration  by  discussing  it.  "  To  go  back  to 
what  we  were  speaking  of,"  she  said,  "  you  will  go  to 
the  workshop  this  afternoon,  Tista,  won't  you  ? " 

"  Yes,"  he  said  mechanically.  "  What  else  should  I 
do  ?  Oh,  Lucia,  my  darling,  I  cannot  bear  this  un- 
certainty," he  cried,  suddenly  giving  vent  to  his  feelings. 
"  Where  will  it  end  ?  He  may  have  changed,  he  may 
be  all  you  say  he  is  to-day,  all  that  he  was  not  yester- 
day, but  do  you  really  believe  he  has  given  up  his  wild 
idea  ?  It  is  not  all  as  it  should  be,  and  that  is  not  his 
nature.  It  will  come  upon  us  suddenly  with  some- 
tliing  we  do  not  expect.  He  will  do  something — I 
cannot  tell  what,  but  I  know  him  better  than  you  do. 
He  is  cruel,  he  plots  over  his  work,  and  then,  when  all 
seems  calm,  the  storm  breaks.     It  will  not  end  well." 

"  We  must  love  each  other,  Tista.  Then  all  will  end 
well.      Who  can  divide  us  ?  " 

"  No  one,"  answered  the  young  man  firmly.  "  But 
many  things  may  happen  before  we  are  united  for 
ever." 

He  was  not  subject  to  presentiments,  and  his  self- 
confident  nature  abhorred  the  prospect  of  trouble. 
He  had  arrived  at  his  conclusion  by  a  logical  process, 
and  there  seemed  no  escape  from  it.  As  he  had  told 
Lucia,  he  knew  the  character  of  the  chiseller  better 
than  the  women  of  the  household  could  know  it,  for 
he  had  been  his  constant  companion  for  years,  and  was 


172  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  viii 

not  to  be  deceived  in  his  estimate  of  Marzio's  temper. 
A  man's  natural  disposition  shows  itself  most  clearly 
when  he  is  in  his  natural  element,  at  his  work,  busied 
in  the  ordinary  occupations  of  his  life.  To  such  a  man 
as  Marzio,  the  workshop  is  more  sympathetic  than  the 
house.  Disagreeing  on  most  points  with  his  family, 
obliged  to  be  absent  during  the  whole  day,  wholly 
absorbed  in  the  production  of  works  which  the  women 
of  his  household  could  not  thoroughly  appreciate,  be- 
cause they  did  not  thoroughly  understand  the  ideas 
which  originated  them,  nor  the  methods  employed  in 
their  execution — under  these  combined  circumstances 
it  was  to  be  expected  that  the  artist's  real  feelings 
would  find  expression  at  the  work-bench  rather  than 
in  the  society  of  his  wife  and  daughter.  Seated  by 
Marzio's  side,  and  learning  from  him  all  that  could  be 
learned,  Gianbattista  had  acquired  at  the  same  time  a 
thorough  knowledge  of  his  instincts  and  emotions,  which 
neither  Maria  Luisa  nor  Lucia  was  able  to  comprehend. 
Marzio  was  tenacious  of  his  ideas  and  of  his  schemes. 
Deficient  in  power  of  initiative  and  in  physical  courage, 
he  was  obstinate  beyond  all  belief  in  his  adherence  to 
his  theories.  That  he  should  suddenly  yield  to  a 
devotional  impulse,  fall  upon  his  knees  before  a 
crucifix  and  cry  mcd  culpd  over  his  whole  past  life, 
was  altogether  out  of  the  question.  In  Gianbattista's 
opinion  it  was  almost  as   impossible  that  he  should 


CHAP.  VIII 


MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  173 


abandon  in  a  moment  the  plan  which  he  had  an- 
nounced with  so  much  resolution  on  the  previous 
evening.  It  was  certain  that  before  declaring  his 
determination  to  marry  his  daughter  to  the  lawyer  he 
must  have  ruminated  and  planned  during  many  days, 
as  it  was  his  habit  to  do  in  all  the  matters  of  his  life, 
without  consulting  any  one,  or  giving  the  slightest 
hint  of  his  intention.  Some  part  of  his  remarkable 
talent  depended  upon  this  faculty  of  thoroughly  con- 
sidering a  resolution  before  proceeding  to  carry  it  out ; 
and  it  is  a  part  of  every  really  great  talent  in  every 
branch  of  creative  art,  for  it  is  the  result  of  a  great 
continuity  in  the  action  of  the  mind  combined  with 
the  power  of  concentration  and  the  virtue  of  reticence. 
Many  a  work  has  appeared  to  the  world  to  be  the 
spontaneous  creation  of  transcendent  genius,  which 
has,  in  reality,  been  conceived,  studied,  and  elaborated 
during  years  of  silence.  Eeticence,  concentration,  and 
continuity,  are  characteristics  which  cannot  influence 
one  part  of  a  man's  life  without  influencing  the  rest  as 
well.  The  habit  of  studying  before  proceeding  is  co- 
existent with  the  necessity  of  considering  before  acting ; 
and  a  man  who  is  reticent  concerning  one  half  of  his 
thoughts  is  not  communicative  about  the  other  half. 
Nature  does  not  do  things  by  halves,  and  the  nerves 
which  animate  the  gesture  at  the  table  are  the  same 
which  guide  the  chisel  at  the  work-bench. 


174  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  viii 

Grianbattista  understood  Marzio's  character,  and  in 
his  mind  tried  to  construct  the  future  out  of  the  pre- 
sent. He  endeavoured  to  follow  out  what  he  supposed 
to  be  the  chiseller's  train  of  thought  to  its  inevitable 
conclusion,  and  the  more  he  reflected  on  the  situation 
the  more  certain  he  became  that  Lucia's  hypothesis 
was  untenable.  It  was  not  conceivable,  under  any 
circumstances  whatever,  that  Marzio  should  suddenly 
turn  into  a  gentle,  forgiving  creature,  anxious  only  for 
the  welfare  of  others,  and  willing  to  sacrifice  his  own 
inclinations  and  schemes  to  that  laudable  end. 

At  twelve  o'clock,  Marzio  appeared,  cold,  silent,  and 
preoccupied.  His  manner  did  not  encourage  the  idea 
entertained  by  Lucia,  though  the  girl  explained  it  to 
herself  on  the  ground  that  her  father  was  ashamed  of 
having  yielded  so  easily,  and  was  unwilling  to  have  it 
thought  that  he  was  too  good-natured.  There  was 
truth  in  her  idea,  and  it  showed  a  good  deal  of  com- 
mon sense  and  appreciation  of  character.  But  it  was 
not  the  whole  truth.  Marzio  not  only  felt  humiliated 
at  having  suffered  himself  to  be  overcome  by  his 
daughter's  entreaties ;  he  regretted  it,  and  wished  he 
could  undo  what  he  had  done.  It  was  too  late,  how- 
ever. To  change  his  mind  a  second  time  would  be  to 
show  such  weakness  as  his  family  had  never  witnessed 
in  his  actions. 

He  ate  his  food  in  silence,  and  the  rest  of  the  party 


CHAP.  VIII 


MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  175 


ventured  but  few  remarks.  They  inwardly  congratu- 
lated themselves  upon  the  favourable  issue  of  the  affair, 
in  so  far  as  it  could  be  said  to  have  reached  a  conclu- 
sion, and  they  all  dreaded  equally  some  fresh  outburst 
of  anger,  should  Marzio's  temper  be  ruffled.  Gian- 
battista  himself  set  the  example  of  discretion.  As  for 
the  Signora  Pandolfi,  she  had  ready  in  her  pocket  the 
money  her  husband  had  given  her  in  the  morning  for 
the  purchase  of  Lucia's  outfit,  and  she  hoped  at  every 
moment  that  Marzio  would  ask  for  it,  which  would 
have  been  a  sign  that  he  had  abandoned  the  idea  of 
the  marriage  with  Carnesecchi.  But  Marzio  never 
mentioned  the  subject.  He  ate  as  quickly  as  he 
could,  swallowed  a  draught  of  weak  wine  and  water, 
and  rose  from  the  table  without  a  word.  With  a 
significant  nod  to  Maria  Luisa  and  Lucia,  Gianbattista 
left  his  seat  and  followed  the  artist  towards  the  door. 
Marzio  looked  round  sharply  as  he  heard  the  steps 
behind  him. 

"  Lucia  told  me,"  said  the  young  man  simply.  "  If 
you  wish  it,  I  will  come  and  work." 

Marzio  hesitated  a  moment,  beating  his  soft  felt  hat 
over  his  arm  to  remove  the  dust. 

"  You  can  go  with  the  men  and  put  up  the  prince's 
grating,"  he  said  at  last.  "  The  right  hand  side  is 
ready  fitted.  If  you  work  hard  you  can  finish  it  be- 
fore night." 


176  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  viij 

"  Very  well,"  answered  Gianbattista.  "  I  will  see 
to  it.  I  have  the  keys  here.  In  five  minutes  I  will 
Dome  across." 

Marzio  nodded  and  went  out.  Gianbattista  returned 
to  the  room  where  the  women  were  finishing  their  dinner. 

"  It  is  all  right,"  he  said.  "  I  am  to  put  up  the 
grating  this  afternoon.  WiU  you  come  and  see  it, 
Sora  Luisa  ? "  He  spoke  to  the  mother,  but  he 
included  the  daughter  by  his  look. 

"  It  is  very  far,"  objected  the  Signora  Pandolfi, 
"  and  we  have  been  walking  so  much  this  morning. 
I  think  this  day  will  never  end  ! " 

"  Courage,  mamma,"  said  Lucia,  "  it  will  do  you 
good  to  walk.  Besides,  there  is  the  omnibus.  What 
did  he  say,  Tista  ?     Am  I  not  right  ? " 

"  Who  knows  ?  He  is  very  quiet,"  replied  the 
apprentice. 

"What  is  it?  What  are  you  right  about,  my  heart  ?" 
asked  Maria  Luisa. 

"  She  thinks  Sor  Marzio  has  suddenly  turned  into  a 
sugar  doU,"  answered  Gianbattista,  with  a  laugh.  "It 
may  be.  They  say  they  make  sugar  out  of  all  sorts 
of  things  nowadays." 

"  Capperi  !  It  would  be  hard  ! "  exclaimed  Maria 
Luisa.  "  If  there  is  enough  sugar  in  him  to  sweeten 
a  teaspoonful  of  coffee,  write  to  me,"  she  added  ironi- 
cally. 


CHAP.  VIII  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  l77 

"  Well — I  shall  be  at  the  church  in  an  hour,  but  it 
will  be  time  enough  if  you  come  at  twenty-three 
o'clock — between  twenty-two  and  twenty- three."  This 
means  between  one  hour  and  two  hours  before  sunset. 
"The  light  is  good  then,  for  there  is  a  big  west  window/' 
added  Gianbattista  in  explanation. 

"  We  will  come  before  that,"  said  Lucia.  "  Good- 
bye, Tista,  and  take  care  not  to  catch  cold  in  that 
damp  place." 

"  And  you  too,"  he  answered,  "  cover  yourselves 
carefully.'* 

With  this  injunction,  and  a  parting  wave  of  the  hand, 
he  left  the  house,  affecting  a  gay  humour  he  did  not 
really  feel.  His  invitation  to  the  two  women  to  join  him 
in  the  church  had  another  object  besides  that  of  show- 
ing them  the  magnificent  gilded  grating  which  was  to 
be  put  in  place.  Gianbattista  feared  that  Marzio  had 
sent  him  upon  this  business  for  the  sake  of  getting  him 
out  of  the  way,  and  he  did  not  know  what  might 
happen  in  his  absence.  The  artist  might  perhaps 
choose  that  time  for  going  in  search  of  Gasparo 
Carnesecchi  in  order  to  bring  him  to  the  house  and 
precipitate  the  catastrophe  which  the  apprentice  still 
feared,  in  spite  of  the  last  events  of  the  morning.  It 
was  not  unusual  for  Maria  Luisa  and  her  daughter 
to  accompany  him  and  Marzio  when  a  finished  work 
was  to  be  set  up,  and  Gianbattista  knew  that  there 

N 


178  MARZIO'S   CRUCmX  CHAP.  VIII 

could    be    no    reasonable    objection    to    such    a   pro- 
ceeding. 

With  an  anxious  heart  he  left  the  house  and  crossed 
the  street  to  the  workshop  where  the  men  were  already 
waiting  for  the  carts  which  were  to  convey  the  heavy 
grating  to  its  destination.  The  pieces  were  standing 
against  the  walls,  wrapped  in  tow  and  brown  paper, 
and  immense  parcels  lay  tied  up  upon  the  benches. 
It  was  a  great  piece  of  work  of  the  decorative  kind, 
but  of  the  sort  for  which  Marzio  cared  little.  Great 
brass  castings  were  chiselled  and  finished  according  to 
his  designs  without  his  touching  them  with  his  hands. 
Huge  twining  arabesques  of  solid  metal  were  prepared 
in  pieces  and  fitted  together  with  screws  that  ran 
easily  in  the  thread,  and  then  were  taken  apart  again. 
Then  came  the  laborious  work  of  gilding  by  the  mer- 
cury process,  smearing  every  piece  very  carefully  with 
an  amalgam  of  mercury  and  gold,  and  putting  it  into 
a  gentle,  steady  fire,  until  the  mercury  had  evaporated, 
leaving  only  the  dull  gold  in  an  even  deposit  on  the 
surfaces.  Then  the  finishing,  the  burnishing  of  the 
high  lights,  and  the  cleaning  of  the  portions  which 
were  to  remain  dull.  Sometimes  the  gilding  of  a  piece 
failed,  and  had  to  be  begun  again,  and  there  wa^  end- 
less trouble  in  saving  the  gold,  as  well  as  in  preventing 
the  workmen  from  stealing  the  amalgam.  It  was  slow 
and  troublesome   work,  and  Marzio  cared  little  for  it. 


CHAP.  VIII 


MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  l79 


though  his  artistic  instinct  restrained  him  from  allomng 
it  to  leave  the  workshop  until  it  had  been  perfected 
to  the  highest  degree. 

At  present  the  artist  stood  in  the  outer  room  among 
the  wrapped  pieces,  his  pipe  in  his  mouth  and  his 
hands  in  his  pockets.  A  moment  after  Gianbattista 
had  entered,  two  carts  rolled  up  to  the  door  and  the 
loading  began. 

"  Take  the  drills  and  some  screws  to  spare,"  said 
Marzio,  looking  into  the  bag  of  tools  the  foreman  had 
prepared.  "  One  can  never  tell  in  these  monstrous 
things." 

*'  It  will  be  the  first  time,  if  we  have  to  drill  a  new 
hole  after  you  have  fitted  a  piece  of  work,  Maestro 
Marzio,"  answered  the  foreman,  who  had  an  unlimited 
admiration  for  his  master's  genius  and  foresight. 

"  Never  mind ;  do  as  I  tell  you.  We  may  all  make 
mistakes  in  this  world,"  returned  the  artist,  giving 
utterance  to  a  moral  sentiment  which  did  not  influence 
him  beyond  the  precincts  of  the  workshop.  The 
workman  obeyed,  and  added  the  requisite  instruments 
to  the  furnishing  of  his  leather  bag. 

"  And  be  careful,  Tista,"  added  Marzio,  turning  to 
the  apprentice.  "  Look  to  the  sockets  in  the  marble 
when  you  place  the  large  pieces.  Measure  them  with 
your  compass,  you  know  ;  if  they  are  too  loose  you 
have  the  thin  plates  of  brass   to  pack   them  ;   if  they 


180  MAEZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  viii 

are  tight,  file  away,  but  finish  and  smooth  it  well. 
Don't  leave  anything  rough." 

Gianbattista  nodded  as  he  lent  a  helping  hand  to 
the  workmen  who  were  carrying  the  hea\y  pieces  to 
the  carts. 

"  Will  you  come  to  the  church  before  night  ? "  he 
asked. 

"  Perhaps.      I  cannot  tell.      I  am  very  busy." 

In  ten  minutes  the  pieces  were  all  piled  upon  the 
two  vehicles,  and  Gianbattista  strode  away  on  foot  with 
the  workmen.  He  had  not  thought  of  changing  his 
dress,  and  had  merely  thrown  an  old  overcoat  over  his 
grey  woollen  blouse.  For  the  time,  he  was  an  artisan 
at  work.  ^Mien  working  hours  were  over,  and  on 
Sundays,  he  loved  to  put  on  the  stiff  high  collar  and 
the  checked  clothes  which  suggested  the  garments  of 
the  English  tourist.  He  was  then  a  different  person, 
and,  in  accordance  with  the  change,  he  would  smoke 
a  cigarette  and  pull  his  cuffs  over  his  hands,  like  a 
real  gentleman,  adjusting  the  angle  of  his  hat  from 
time  to  time,  and  glancing  at  his  reflection  in  the  shop 
windows  as  he  passed  along.  But  work  was  work ;  it 
was  a  pity  to  spoil  good  clothes  with  handling  tools 
and  castings,  and  jostling  against  the  men,  and,  more- 
over, the  change  affected  his  nature.  He  could  not 
handle  a  hammer  or  a  chisel  when  he  felt  like  a  real 
gentleman,  and  when  he  felt  like  an  artisan  he  must 


CHAP.  viiT  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  181 

enjoy  the  liberty  of  being  able  to  tuck  up  his  sleeves 
and  work  with  a  will.  At  the  present  moment,  too, 
he  was  proud  of  being  in  sole  charge  of  the  work, 
and  he  could  not  help  thinking  what  a  fine  thing  it 
would  be  to  be  married  to  Lucia  and  to  be  the  master 
of  the  workshop.  With  the  sanguine  enthusiasm  of  a 
very  young  man  who  loves  his  occupation,  he  put  his 
whole  soul  into  what  he  was  to  do,  assured  that 
every  skilful  stroke  of  the  hammer,  every  difficulty 
overcome,  brought  him  nearer  to  the  woman  he  loved. 

Marzio  entered  the  inner  studio  when  Gianbattista 
was  gone,  leaving  a  boy  who  was  learning  to  cut  little 
files — the  preliminary  to  the  chiseller's  profession — in 
charge  of  the  outer  workshop.  The  artist  shut  himself 
in  and  bolted  the  door,  glad  to  be  alone  with  the  pros- 
pect of  not  being  disturbed  during  the  whole  afternoon. 
He  seemed  not  to  hesitate  about  the  work  he  intended 
to  do,  for  he  immediately  took  in  hand  the  crucifix, 
laid  it  upon  the  table,  and  began  to  study  it,  using  a 
lens*  from  time  to  time  as  he  scrutinised  each  detail. 
His  rough  hair  fell  forward  over  his  forehead,  and  his 
shoulders  rounded  themselves  till  he  looked  almost 
deformed. 

He  had  suffered  very  strong  emotions  during  the 
last  twenty-four  hours — enough  to  have  destroyed  the 
steadiness  of  an  ordinary  man's  hand  ;  but  with  Marziq, 
manual  skill  was  the  first  habit  of  nature,  and  it  would 


182  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  viil 

have  been  hard  to  find  a  mental  impression  which 
could  shake  his  physical  nerves.  His  mind,  however, 
worked  rapidly  and  almost  fiercely,  while  his  eyes 
searched  the  minute  lines  of  the  work  he  was  ex- 
amining. 

Uppermost  in  his  thoughts  was  a  confused  sense  of 
humiliation  and  of  exasperation  against  his  brother. 
The  anger  he  felt  had  nearly  been  expressed  in  a 
murderous  deed  not  more  than  two  or  three  hours 
earlier,  and  the  wish  to  strilve  was  still  present  in  his 
mind.  He  twisted  his  lips  into  an  ugly  smile  as  he 
recalled  the  scene  in  every  detail ;  but  the  determina- 
tion was  different  from  the  reality  and  more  in  accord- 
ance with  his  feelings.  He  realised  again  that  moment 
during  which  he  had  held  the  sharp  instrument  over  his 
brother's  head,  and  the  thought  which  had  then  passed 
so  rapidly  through  his  brain  recurred  again  with  in- 
creased clearness.  He  remembered  that  beneath  the 
iron-bound  box  in  the  corner  there  was  a  trap- door 
which  descended  to  the  unused  cellar,  for  his  work- 
shop had  in  former  times  been  a  wine-shop,  and  he  had 
hired  the  cellar  with  it.  One  sharp  blow  would  have 
done  the  business.  A  few  quick  movements  and 
Paolo's  body  would  have  been  thrown  down  the  dark 
steps  beneath,  the  trap  closed  again,  the  safe  replaced 
in  its  position.  It  was  eleven  o'clock  then,  or  there- 
abouts.     He  would  have  sent  the  workmen  to  their 


CHAP,  vm  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  183 

dinner,  and  would  have  returned  to  the  inner  studio. 
They  would  have  supposed  afterwards  that  Don  Paolo 
had  left  the  place  with  him.  He  would  have  gone 
home  and  would  have  said  that  Paolo  had  left  him — 
or,  no — he  would  have  said  that  Paolo  had  not  been 
there,  for  some  one  might  see  him  leave  the  workshop 
alone.  In  the  night  he  would  have  returned,  his 
family  thinking  he  had  gone  to  meet  his  friends,  as 
he  often  did.  When  the  streets  were  quiet  he  weuld 
have  carried  the  body  away  upon  the  handcart  that 
stood  in  the  entry  of  the  outer  room.  It  was  not  far — 
scarcely  three  hundred  yards,  allowing  for  the  turnings 
— to  the  place  where  the  Yia  Montella  ends  in  a  mud 
bank  by  the  dark  river.  A  deserted  neighbourhood, 
too — a  turn  to  the  left,  the  low  trees  of  the  Piazza  de' 
Branca,  the  dark,  short,  straight  street  to  the  water. 
At  one  o'clock  after  midnight  who  was  stirring  ? 
It  would  all  have  been  so  simple,  so  terribly 
effectual. 

And  then  there  would  have  been  no  more  Paolo, 
no  more  domestic  annoyances,  no  more  of  the  priest's 
smooth-faced  disapprobation  and  perpetual  opposi- 
tion in  the  house.  He  would  have  soon  brought 
Maria  Luisa  and  Lucia  to  reason.  What  could  they 
do  without  the  support  of  Paolo  ?  They  were  only 
women  after  all.  As  for  Gianbattista,  if  once  the 
poisonous  influence  of  Paolo  were  removed — and  how 


184  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  viii 

surely  removed ! — Marzio's  lips  twisted  as  though  he 
were  tasting  the  sourness  of  failure,  like  an  acid  fruit 
— if  once  the  priest  were  gone,  Gianbattista  would 
come  back  to  his  old  ways,  to  his  old  scorn  of  priests 
in  general,  of  churches,  of  oppression,  of  everything 
that  Marzio  hated.  He  might  marry  Lucia  then,  and 
be  welcome.  After  all,  he  was  a  finer  fellow  for  the 
pretty  girl  than  Gasparo  Carnesecchi,  with  his  claw 
fingers  and  his  vinegar  salad.  That  was  only  a  farce, 
that  proposal  about  the  lawyer — the  real  thing  was  to 
get  rid  of  Paolo.  There  could  be  no  healthy  liberty 
of  thought  in  the  house  while  this  fellow  was  sneaking 
in  and  out  at  all  hours.  Tumble  Paolo  into  a  quiet 
grave — into  the  river  with  a  sackful  of  old  castings  at 
his  neck — there  would  be  peace  then,  and  freedom. 
Marzio  ground  his  teeth  as  he  thought  how  nearly  he 
had  done  the  thing,  and  how  miserably  he  had  failed. 
It  had  been  the  inspiration  of  the  moment,  and  the 
details  had  appeared  clear  at  once  to  his  mind.  Going 
over  them  he  found  that  he  had  not  been  mistaken. 
If  Paolo  came  again,  and  he  had  the  chance,  he  would 
do  it.  It  was  perhaps  all  the  better  that  he  had  found 
time  to  weigh  the  matter. 

But  would  Paolo  come  again  ?  "Would  he  ever 
trust  himself  alone  in  the  workshop  ?  Had  he  guessed, 
when  he  turned  so  suddenly  and  saw  the  weapon  in  the 
air,  that  the  blow  was  on  the  very  point  of  descending  ? 


CHAP.  VIII  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  185  ' 

Or  had  he  been  deceived  by  the  clumsy  excuse  Marzio 
had  made  about  the  sun  shining  in  his  eyes  ? 

He  had  remained  calm,  or  Marzio  tried  to  think  so. 
But  the  artist  himself  had  been  so  much  moved  during 
the  minutes  that  followed  that  he  could  hardly  feel 
sure  of  Paolo's  behaviour.  It  was  a  chilling  thought, 
that  Paolo  might  have  understood  and  might  have 
gone  away  feeling  that  his  life  had  been  saved  almost 
by  a  miracle.  He  would  not  come  back,  the  cunning 
priest,  in  that  case ;  he  would  not  risk  his  precious 
skin  in  such  company.  It  was  not  to  be  expected — a 
priest  was  only  human,  after  all,  like  any  other  man. 
Marzio  cursed  his  ill  luck  again  as  he  bent  over  his 
work.  What  a  moment  this  would  be  if  Paolo  would 
take  it  into  his  head  to  make  another  visit !  Even 
the  men  were  gone.  He  would  send  the  one  boy  who 
remained  to  the  church  where  Gianbattista  was  work- 
ing, with  a  message.  They  would  be  alone  then,  he 
and  Paolo.  The  priest  might  scream  and  call  for  help 
— the  thick  walls  would  not  let  any  sound  through 
them.  It  would  be  even  better  than  in  the  morning, 
when  he  had  lost  his  opportunity  by  a  moment,  by 
the  twinkling  of  an  eye. 

"They  say  hell  is  paved  with  good  intentions — or 
lost  opportunities,"  muttered  Marzio.  "  I  will  send 
Paolo  with  the  next  opportunity  to  help  in  the 
paving." 


186  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  CHAP,  viii 

He  laughed  softly  at  liis  grim  joke,  and  bent  lower 
over  tlie  crucifix.  By  this  time  he  had  determined 
what  to  do,  for  his  reflections  had  not  interfered  with 
his  occupation.  Eemoving  two  tiny  silver  screws 
which  fitted  with  the  utmost  exactness  in  the  threads, 
he  loosened  the  figure  from  the  cross,  removed  the 
latter  to  a  shelf  on  the  wall,  and  returning  laid  the 
statue  on  a  soft  leathern  pad,  surrounding  it  with 
sand-bags  till  it  was  propped  securely  in  the  position 
he  required.  Then  he  took  a  very  small  chisel,  ad- 
justed it  with  the  greatest  care,  and  tapped  upon  it 
with  the  round  wooden  handle  of  his  little  hammer. 
At  each  touch  he  examined  the  surface  with  his  lens 
to  assure  himself  that  he  was  making  the  improve- 
ment he  contemplated.  It  was  very  delicate  work, 
and  as  he  did  it  he  felt  a  certain  pride  in  the  reflec- 
tion that  he  could  not  have  detected  the  place  where 
improvement  was  possible  when  he  had  worked  upon 
the  piece  ten  years  ago.  He  found  it  now,  in  the 
infinitesimal  touches  upon  the  expression  of  the  face, 
in  the  minute  increase  in  the  depressions  and  accentu- 
ated lines  in  the  anatomy  of  the  figure.  As  he  went 
over  each  portion  he  became  more  and  more  certain 
that  though  he  could  not  at  present  do  better  in  the 
way  of  idea  and  general  execution,  he  had  nevertheless 
gained  in  subtle  knowledge  of  effects  and  in  skill  of 
handling   the   chisel  ujjon  very  delicate   points.      The 


CHAP.  VIII  MAEZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  187 

certainty  gave  him  the  real  satisfaction  of  legitimate 
pride.  He  knew  that  he  had  reached  the  zenith  of 
his  capacities.  His  old  wish  to  keep  the  crucifix  for 
himself  began  to  return. 

If  he  disposed  of  Paolo  he  might  keep  his  work. 
Only  Paolo  had  seen  it.  The  absurd  want  of  logic 
in  the  conclusion  did  not  strike  him.  He  had  not 
pledged  himself  to  his  brother  to  give  this  particular 
crucifix  to  the  Cardinal,  and  if  he  had,  he  could  easily 
have  found  a  reason  for  keeping  it  back.  But  he  was 
too  much  accustomed  to  think  that  Paolo  was  always 
in  the  way  of  his  wishes,  to  look  at  so  simple  a  matter 
in  such  a  simple  light. 

"  It  is  strange,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  The  smallest 
things  seem  to  point  to  it.      If  he  would  only  come  ! " 

Again  his  mind  returned  to  the  contemplation  of 
the  deed,  and  again  he  reviewed  all  the  circumstances 
necessary  for  its  safe  execution.  What  an  inspiration, 
he  thought,  and  what  a  pity  it  had  not  found  shape  in 
fact  at  the  very  moment  when  it  had  presented  itself ! 
He  considered  why  he  had  never  thought  of  it  before, 
in  all  the  years,  as  a  means  of  freeing  himself  effect- 
ually from  the  despotism  he  detested.  It  was  a 
despotism,  he  reflected,  and  no  other  word  expressed 
it.  He  recalled  many  scenes  in  his  home,  in  which 
Paolo  had  interfered.  He  remembered  how  one  Sun- 
day, in  the  afternoon,  they  had  all  been  together  before 


188  MAKZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  viii 

going  to  walk  in  the  Corso,  and  how  he  had  undertaken 
to  demonstrate  to  Maria  Luisa  and  Lucia  the  folly  of 
wasting  time  in  going  to  church  on  Sundays.  He  had 
argued  gently  and  reasonably,  he  thought.  But  sud- 
denly Paolo  had  interrupted  him,  saying  that  he  would 
not  allow  Marzio  to  compare  a  church  to  a  circus,  nor 
priests  to  mountebanks  and  tight-rope  dancers.  Why 
not  ?  Then  the  women  had  begun  to  scream  and  cry, 
and  to  talk  of  his  blasphemous  language  until  he  could 
not  hear  himself  speak.  It  was  Paolo's  fault.  If  Paolo 
had  not  been  there  the  women  would  have  listened 
patiently  enough,  and  would  doubtless  have  reaped 
some  good  from  his  reasonable  discourse.  On  another 
occasion  Marzio  had  declared  that  Lucia  should  never 
be  taught  anything  about  Christianity,  that  the  defini- 
tion of  God  was  reason,  that  Garibaldi  had  baptized 
one  child  in  the  name  of  Eeason  and  that  he,  Marzio, 
could  baptize  another  quite  as  effectually.  Paolo  had 
interfered,  and  Maria  Luisa  had  screamed.  The  con- 
test had  lasted  nearly  a  month,  at  the  end  of  which 
time,  Marzio  had  been  obliged  to  abandon  the  uneven 
contest,  vowing  vengeance  in  some  shape  for  the  future. 
Many  and  many  such  scenes  rose  to  his  memory, 
and  in  every  one  Paolo  was  the  opposer,  the  enemy 
of  his  peace,  the  champion  of  all  that  he  hated  and 
despised.  In  great  things  and  small  his  brother  had 
been  his  antagonist  from  his  early  manhood,  through 


CHAP.  VIII  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  '  189 

eighteen  years  of  married  life  to  the  present  day. 
And  yet,  without  Paolo,  he  could  hardly  have  hoped 
to  find  himself  in  his  present  state  of  fortune. 

This  was  one  of  the  chief  sources  of  his  humiliation 
in  his  own  eyes.  With  such  a  character  as  his,  it 
is  eminently  true  that  it  is  harder  to  forgive  a  benefit 
than  an  injury.  He  might  have  felt  less  bitterly 
against  his  brother  if  he  had  not  received  at  his  hands 
the  orders  and  commissions  which  had  turned  into  solid 
money  in  the  bank.  It  was  hard  to  face  Paolo,  know- 
ing that  he  owed  two- thirds  of  his  fortune  to  such  a 
source.  If  he  could  get  rid  of  the  priest  he  would 
be  relieved  at  once  from  the  burden  of  this  annoy- 
ance, of  this  financial  subjection,  as  well  of  all  that 
embittered  his  life.  He  pictured  to  himself  his  wife 
and  daughter  listening  respectfully  to  his  harangues 
and  beginning  to  practise  his  principles,  Gianbattista, 
an  eloquent  member  of  the  society  in  the  inner  room 
of  the  old  inn,  reformed,  purged  from  his  sneaking 
fondness  for  Paolo — since  Paolo  would  not  be  in  the 
world  any  longer — and  ultimately  married  to  Lucia, 
the  father  of  children  who  should  all  be  baptized  in  the 
name  of  Keason,  and  the  worthy  successor  of  himself, 
Marzio  Pandolfi. 

Scrutinising  the  statue  under  his  lens,  he  detected 
a  slight  imperfection  in  the  place  where  one  of  the 
sharp  thorns  touched  the  silver  forehead  of  the  beauti- 


190  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  vin 

ful,  tortured  head.  He  looked  about  for  a  tool  fine 
enough  for  the  work,  but  none  suited  his  wants.  He 
took  up  the  long  fine-pointed  punch  he  had  thrown 
back  upon  the  table  after  the  scene  in  the  morning. 
It  was  too  long,  and  over  sharp,  but  by  turning  it 
sideways  it  would  do  the  work  under  his  dexterous 
fingers. 

"  Strange  ! "  he  muttered,  as  he  tapped  upon  the 
tool.     "  It  is  like  a  consecration  ! " 

When  he  had  made  the  stroke  he  dropped  the 
instrument  into  the  pocket  of  his  blouse,  as  though 
fearing  to  lose  it.  He  had  no  occasion  to  use  it  again, 
though  he  went  on  with  his  'work  during  several 
hours. 

The  thoughts  which  had  passed  through  his  brain 
recurred,  and  did  not  diminish  in  clearness.  On  the 
contrary,  it  was  as  though  the  passing  impulse  of  the 
morning  had  grown  during  those  short  hours  into  a 
settled  and  unchangeable  resolution.  Once  he  rose 
from  his  stool,  and  going  to  the  corner,  dragged  away 
the  iron-bound  safe  from  its  place.  A  rusty  ring  lay 
flat  in  a  little  hoUow  in  the  surface  of  the  trap-door. 
Marzio  bent  over  it  with  a  pale  face  and  gleaming 
eyes.  It  seemed  to  him  as  though,  if  he  looked  round, 
he  should  see  Paolo's  body  lying  on  the  floor,  ready  to 
be  dropped  into  the  space  below.  He  raised  the  wood 
and  set  the   trap  back  against  the  wall,  peering  down 


CHAP.  VIII  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  191 

into  the  black  depths.  A  damp  smell  came  up  to  his 
nostrils  from  the  moist  staircase.  He  struck  a  match, 
and  held  it  into  the  opening,  to  see  in  what  direction 
the  stairs  led  down. 

Something  moved  behind  him  and  made  a  little 
noise.  With  a  short  cry  of  horror  Marzio  sprang 
back  from  the  opening  and  looked  round.  It  was  as 
though  the  body  of  the  murdered  man  had  stirred 
upon  the  floor.  His  overstrained  imagination  terrified 
him,  and  his  eyes  started  from  his  head.  He  examined 
the  bench  and  saw  the  cause  of  the  sound  in  a  moment. 
The  silver  Christ,  unsteadily  propped  in  the  position 
in  which  he  had  just  placed  it,  had  fallen  upon  one 
side  of  the  pad  by  its  own  weight. 

Marzio's  heart  still  beat  desperately  as  he  went 
back  to  the  hole  and  carefully  reclosed  the  trap-door, 
dragging  the  heavy  safe  to  its  position  over  the  ring. 
Trembling  violently,  he  sat  down  upon  his  stool  and 
wiped  the  cold  perspiration  from  his  forehead.  Then, 
as  he  laid  the  figure  upon  the  cushion,  he  glanced 
uneasily  behind  him  and  at  the  corner. 


CHAPTER    IX 

When  Don  Paolo  had  shut  the  door  of  the  studio 
and  found  himself  once  more  in  the  open  street, 
he  felt  a  strangely  unpleasant  sensation  about  the 
heart,  and  for  a  few  moments  he  was  very  pale. 
He  had  suffered  a  shock,  and  in  spite  of  his  best 
efforts  to  explain  away  what  had  occurred,  he  knew 
that  he  had  been  in  danger.  Any  one  who,  being  him- 
self defenceless,  has  suddenly  seen  a  pistol  pointed  at  him 
in  earnest,  or  a  sharp  weapon  raised  in  the  air  to  strike 
him,  knows  the  feeling  well  enough.  Probably  he  has 
afterwards  tried  to  reason  upon  what  he  felt  in  that 
moment,  and  has  failed  to  come  to  any  conclusion 
except  the  very  simple  one,  that  he  was  badly  fright- 
ened. Hector  was  no  coward,  but  he  let  Achilles 
chase  him  three  times  round  Troy  before  he  could 
make  up  his  mind  to  stand  and  fight,  and  but  for 
Athena  he  might  have  run  even  further.  And  yet 
Hector  was  armed  at  all  points  for  battle.  He  was 
badly  frightened,  brave  man  as  he  was. 

But  when  the  first  impression  was  gone,  and  Paolo 


CHAP.   IX 


MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  193 


was  walking  quickly  in  the  direction  of  the  palace 
where  the  Cardinal  lived,  he  stoutly  denied  to  him- 
self that  Marzio  had  meant  to  harm  him.  In  the  first 
place,  he  could  find  no  adequate  reason  for  such  an 
attempt  upon  his  life.  It  was  true  that  his  relations 
with  his  brother  had  not  been  very  amicable  for  some 
time;  but  between  quarrelling  and  doing  murder, 
Paolo  saw  a  gulf  too  wide  to  be  easily  overstepped, 
even  by  such  a  person  as  Marzio.  Then,  too,  the 
good  man  was  unwilling  to  suspect  any  one  of  bad 
intentions,  still  less  of  meditating  a  crime.  This  con- 
sideration, however,  was  not,  logically  speaking,  in 
Marzio' s  favour ;  for  since  Paolo  was  less  suspicious 
than  other  men,  it  must  necessarily  have  needed  a 
severe  shock  to  shake  his  faith  in  his  brother's  inno- 
cence. He  had  seen  the  weapon  in  the  air,  and  had 
seen  also  the  murderous  look  in  the  artist's  eyes. 

"  I  had  better  not  think  anything  more  about  it," 
he  said  to  himself,  fearing  lest  he  should  think  any- 
thing unjust. 

So  he  went  on  his  way  towards  the  palace,  and 
tried  to  think  about  Gianbattista  and  Lucia,  their  mar- 
riage and  their  future  life.  The  two  young  faces  came 
up  before  him  as  he  walked,  and  he  smiled  calmly, 
forgetting  what  he  had  so  recently  passed  through,  in 
the  pleasant  contemplation  of  a  happiness  not  his  own. 
He  reached  his  rooms,  high  up  at  the  top  of  the  ancient 

u 


194  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  ix 

building,  and  he  sighed  with  a  sense  of  relief  as  he 
sat  down  upon  the  battered  old  chair  before  his  writing- 
table. 

Presently  the  Cardinal  sent  for  him.  Don  Paolo 
rose  and  carefully  brushed  the  dust  from  his  cassock 
and  mantle,  and  smoothed  the  long  silk  nap  of  his  hat. 
He  was  a  very  neat  man  and  scrupulous  as  to  his 
appearance.  Moreover,  he  regarded  the  Cardinal  with 
a  certain  awe,  as  being  far  removed  beyond  the  sphere 
of  ordinary  humanity,  even  though  he  had  known  him 
intimately  for  years.  This  idea  of  the  great  importance 
of  the  princes  of  the  Church  is  inherent  in  the  Eoman 
mind.  There  is  no  particular  reason  why  it  should  be 
eradicated,  since  it  exists,  and  does  no  harm  to  any  one, 
but  it  is  a  singular  fact  and  worthy  of  remark.  It  is 
one  of  those  many  relics  of  old  times,  which  no  amount 
of  outward  change  has  been  able  to  obliterate.  •  A 
cardinal  in  Eome  occupies  a  position  wholly  distinct 
from  that  of  any  other  dignitary  or  hereditary  noble. 
It  is  not  so  elsewhere,  except  perhaps  in  some  parts 
of  the  south.  The  Piedmontese  scoffs  at  cardinals, 
because  he  scoffs  at  the  church  and  at  all  religion  in 
general.  The  Florentine  shrugs  his  shoulders  because 
cardinals  represent  Eome,  and  Eome,  with  all  that  is 
in  it,  is  hateful  to  Florence,  and  always  was.  But  the 
true  Eoman,  even  when  he  has  adopted  the  ideas  of 
the  new  school,  still  feels  an  unaccountable  reverence 


CHAP.  IX  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  195 

for  tlie  scarlet  mantle.  There  is  a  dignity — often,  now, 
very  far  from  magnificent — about  the  household  of  a 
cardinal,  which  is  not  found  elsewhere.  The  servants 
are  more  grave  and  tread  more  softly,  the  rooms  are 
darker  and  more  severe,  the  atmosphere  is  more  still 
and  the  silence  more  intense,  than  in  the  houses  of 
lay  princes.  A  man  feels  in  the  very  air  the  presence 
of  a  far-reaching  power,  noiselessly  working  to  produce 
great  results. 

Don  Paolo  descended  the  stairs  and  entered  the 
apartments  through  the  usual  green  baize  door,  which 
swung  upon  its  hinges  by  its  own  weight  behind  him. 
He  passed  through  several  large  halls,  scantily  and 
sombrely  furnished,  in  the  last  of  which  stood  the 
throne  chair,  turned  to  the  wall,  beneath  a  red  canopy. 
Beyond  this  great  reception  -  chamber,  and  communi- 
cating with  it  by  a  low  masked  door,  was  the 
Cardinal's  study,  a  small  room,  very  high  and  lighted 
single  tall  window  which  opener  1  upon  an  inner 
court  of  the  palace.  The  furniture  was  very  simple, 
consisting  of  a  large  writing-table,  a  few  high-backed 
chairs,  and  the  Cardinal's  own  easy-chair,  covered  with 
dingy  leather  and  well  worn  by  use.  On  the  dark 
green  walls  hung  two  engravings,  one  a  portrait  of 
Pius  IX.,  the  other  a  likeness  of  Leo  XIII.  The 
Cardinal  himself  sat  in  the  arm-chair,  holding  a  news- 
paper spread  out  upon  his  knees. 


196  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  ix 

"  Good-day,  Don  Paolo,"  lie  said,  in  a  pleasant,  but 
not  very  musical  voice. 

His  Eminence  was  a  man  about  sixty  years  of  age, 
hale  and  strong  in  appearance,  but  below  the  middle 
height  and  somewhat  inclining  to  stoutness.  His  face 
was  round,  and  the  complexion  very  clear,  which,  with 
his  small  and  bright  brown  eyes,  gave  him  a  look  of 
cheerful  vitality.  Short  white  hair  fringed  his  head 
where  it  was  not  covered  by  the  small  scarlet  skull-cap. 
He  wore  a  purple  cassock  with  scarlet  buttons  and  a 
scarlet  silk  mantle,  which  fell  in  graceful  folds  over 
one  arm  of  the  chair. 

"  Good-day,  Eminence,"  answered  Don  Paolo,  touch- 
ing the  great  ruby  ring  with  his  lips.  Then,  in 
obedience  to  a  gesture,  the  priest  sat  down  upon  one  of 
the  high-backed  chairs. 

"  What  weather  have  we  to-day  ?"  asked  the  Cardinal 
after  a  pause. 

"  Scirocco,  Eminence." 

"Ah,  I  thought  so — especially  this  morning,  very 
early.  It  is  very  disagreeable.  Since  Padre  Secchi 
found  that  the  scirocco  really  brings  the  sand  of  the 
desert  with  it,  I  dislike  it  more  than  ever.  And  what 
have  you  been  doing,  Don  Paolo  ?  Have  you  been  to 
see  about  the  crucifix  ?" 

"  I  spoke  to  my  brother  about  it  last  night,  Emin- 
ence.    He  said  he  would  do  his  best  to  make  it  in  the 


CHAP.  IX  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  197 

time,  but  that  he  would  have  preferred  to  have  a  little 
longer." 

"  He  is  a  good  artist,  your  brother,"  said  the 
Cardinal,  nodding  his  head  slowly  and  joining  his 
hands,  while  the  newspaper  slipped  to  the  floor. 

"A  good  artist,"  repeated  Don  Paolo,  stooping  to 
pick  up  the  sheet.  "  I  have  just  seen  his  best  work 
— a  crucifix  such  as  your  Eminence  wishes.  Indeed, 
he  proposed  that  you  should  take  it,  for  he  says  he 
can  make  nothing  better." 

"  Let  us  see,  let  us  see,"  answered  the  prelate,  in  a 
tone  which  showed  that  he  did  not  altogether  like  the 
proposal.  "You  say  he  has  it  already  made.  Tell 
me,  has  your  brother  much  work  to  do  just  now  ?" 

"  Not  much.  Eminence.  He  has  just  finished  the 
grating  of  a  chapel  for  some  church  or  other.  I  tliink 
I  saw  a  silver  ewer  begun  upon  his  table." 

"  I  thought  that  perhaps  he  had  not  time  for  my 
crucifix." 

"  But  he  is  an  artist,  my  brother  1  cried  the  priest, 
who  resented  the  idea  that  Marzio  might  wish  to  palm 
off  an  ill-made  object  in  order  to  save  time.  "  He  is 
a  good  artist,  he  loves  the  work,  he  always  does  his 
best !  When  he  says  he  can  do  nothing  better  than 
what  he  has  already  finished,  I  believe  him." 

"  So  much  the  better,"  replied  the  Cardinal  "  But 
we  must  see  the  work  before  deciding.     You  seem  to 


198  MARZIO'S    CKUCIFIX  chap,  ix 

have  great  faith  in  your  brother's  good  intentions,  Don 
Paolo.  Is  it  not  true  ?  Dear  me  !  You  were  almost 
angry  with  me  for  suggesting  that  he  might  be  too 
busy  to  undertake  my  commission." 

"  Angry  !  I  angry  ?  Your  Eminence  is  unjust. 
Marzio  puts  much  conscience  into  his  work.  That  is 
aU." 

"  Ah,  he  is  a  man.  of  conscience  ?  I  did  not  know. 
But,  being  your  brother,  he  should  be,  Don  Paolo." 
The  prelate's  bright  brown  eyes  twinkled. 

Paolo  was  silent,  though  he  bowed  his  head  in 
acknowledgment  of  the  indirect  praise. 

"  You  do  not  say  anything,"  observed  the  Cardinal, 
looking  at  his  secretary  with  a  smile. 

"  He  is  a  man  of  convictions/'  answered  Paolo,  at 
last. 

"  That  is  better  than  nothing,  better  than  being 
lukewarm.  '  Because  thou  art  lukewarm,'  you  know 
the  rest." 

" Incipiam  te  evomere''  replied  the  priest  mechani- 
cally.    "  Marzio  is  not  lukewarm." 

"  Frigidusne  ?"  asked  the  Cardinal. 

"  Hardly  that." 

"An  calidusT 

"Not  very,  Eminence.     That  is,  not  exactly." 

"  But  then,  in  heaven's  name,  what  is  he  ?"  laughed 
the  prelate.     "  If  he  is  not  cold,  nor  hot,  nor  luke- 


CHAP.  IX  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  199 

warm,  what  is  he  ?  He  interests  me.  He  is  a  singu- 
lar case." 

"  He  is  a  man  who  has  his  opinions,"  answered  Don 
Paolo.  "  What  shall  I  say  ?  He  is  so  good  an  artist 
that  he  is  a  little  crazy  about  other  things." 

"  His  opinions  are  not  ours,  I  suppose.  I  have 
sometimes  thought  as  much  from  the  way  you  speak  of 
him.  Well,  well — he  is  not  old ;  his  opinions  will 
change.  You  are  very  much  attached  to  your  brother, 
Don  Paolo,  are  you  not  ?" 

"We  are  brothers.  Eminence." 

"  So  were  Cain  and  Abel,  if  I  am  not  mistaken," 
observed  the  Cardinal.  Paolo  looked  about  the  room 
uneasily.  "I  only  mean  to  say,"  continued  the  pre- 
late, "  that  men  may  be  brothers  and  yet  not  love  each 
other." 

"  Come  si  fcb  ?  What  can  one  do  about  it  ?  "  ejacu- 
lated Paolo. 

"You  must  try  and  influence  him.  You  must  do 
your  best  to  make  him  change  his  views.  You  must 
make  an  effort  to  bring  him  to  a  better  state  of  mind." 

"  Eh !  I  know,"  answered  the  priest.  "  I  do  my 
best,  but  I  do  not  succeed.  He  thinks  I  interfere.  I 
am  not  San  Filippo  Neri.  Why  should  I  conceal  the 
matter  ?  Marzio  is  not  a  bad  man,  but  he  is  crazy 
about  what  he  calls  politics.  He  believes  in  a  new 
state  of  tilings.       He  thinks  that  everything  is  bad  and 


200  MAEZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  CHAP,  ix 

ought  to  be  destroyed.      Then  he  and  his  friends  would 
build  up  the  ideal  state." 

"  There  would  soon  be  nothing  but  equality  to  eat 
— fried,  roast  and  boiled.  I  have  heard  that  there  are 
socialists  even  here  in  Eome.  I  cannot  imagine  what 
they  want." 

"They  want  to  divide  the  wealth  of  the  country 
among  themselves,"  answered  Don  Paolo.  "  What 
strange  ideas  men  have  !" 

"  To  divide  the  wealth  of  the  country  they  have 
only  to  subtract  a  paper  currency  from  an  inflated 
national  debt.  There  would  be  more  unrighteousness 
than  mammon  left  after  such  a  proceeding.  It  reminds 
me  of  a  story  I  heard  last  year.  A  deputation  of 
socialists  waited  upon  a  high  personage  in  Vienna. 
Who  knows  what  for  ?  But  they  went.  They  told 
him  that  it  was  his  duty  to  divide  his  wealth  amongst 
the  inhabitants  of  the  city.  And  he  said  they  were 
quite  right.  'Look  here,'  said  he,  'I  possess  about 
seven  hundred  thousand  florins.  It  chances  that 
Vienna  has  about  seven  hundred  thousand  inhabitants. 
Here,  you  have  each  one  florin.  It  is  your  share. 
Good-morning.'  You  see  he  was  quite  just.  So,  per- 
haps, if  your  brother  had  his  way,  and  destroyed 
everything,  and  divided  the  proceeds  equally,  he  would 
have  less  afterwards  than  he  had  before.  What  do 
you  think  ?" 


CHAP.  IX  MARZIO*S    CRUCIFDt  201 

"  It  is  quite  true,  Eminence.  But  I  am  afraid  he 
will  never  understand  that.  He  has  very  unchange- 
able opinions." 

"  They  will  change  all  the  more  suddenly  when  he 
is  tired  of  them.  Those  ideas  are  morbid,  like  the 
ravings  of  a  man  in  a  fever.  When  the  fever  has 
worn  itself  out,  there  comes  a  great  sense  of  lassitude, 
and  a  desire  for  peace." 

"  Provided  it  ever  really  does  wear  itself  out,"  said 
Don  Paolo,  sadly. 

"  Eh  !  it  will,  some  day.  With  such  political  ideas, 
I  suppose  your  brother  is  an  atheist,  is  he  not  ?" 

"  I  hope  he  believes  in  something,"  replied  the 
priest  evasively. 

"  And  yet  he  makes  a  good  living  by  manufactur- 
ing vessels  for  the  service  of  the  Church,"  continued 
the  Cardinal,  with  a  smile.  "Why  did  you  never 
tell  me  about  your  brother's  peculiar  views,  Don 
Paolo?" 

"  Why  should  I  trouble  you  with  such  matters  ?  I 
am  sorry  I  have  said  so  much,  for  no  one  can  under- 
stand exactly  what  Marzio  is,  who  does  not  know  him. 
It  is  an  injury  to  him  to  let  your  Eminence  know  that 
he  is  a  freethinker.  And  yet  he  is  not  a  bad  man,  I 
believe.  He  has  no  vices  that  I  know  of,  except  a 
sharp  tongue.  He  is  sober  and  works  hard.  That  is 
much  in  these  days.      Though  he  is  mistaken,  he  will 


202  MARZIO'S   CRUCIFIX  chap,  ix 

doubtless  come  to  his  senses,  as  you  say.  I  do  not 
hate  him.      I  would  not  injure  him." 

"  Why  do  you  think  it  can  harm  him  to  let  me 
know  about  him  ?  Do  you  think  that  I,  or  others, 
would  not  employ  him  if  we  knew  all  about  him  ? " 

"  It  would  seem  natural  that  your  Eminence  should 
hesitate  to  do  so." 

"Let  us  see,  Don  Paolo.  There  are  some  bad 
priests  in  the  world,  I  suppose ;  are  there  not  ? " 

"  It  is  to  be  feared " 

"  Yes,  there  are.  There  are  bad  priests  in  all  forms 
of  religion.  Yet  they  say  mass.  Of  course,  very 
often  the  people  know  that  they  are  bad.  Do  you 
think  that  the  mass  is  less  efficacious  for  the  salvation 
of  those  who  attend  it,  provided  that  they  themselves 
pray  with  the  same  earnestness  ? " 

"No;  certainly  not.  For  otherwise  it  would  be 
necessary  that  the  people  should  ascertain  whether 
the  priest  is  in  a  state  of  grace  every  time  he  cele- 
brates ;  and  since  their  salvation  would  then  depend 
upon  that,  they  would  be  committing  a  sin  if  they  did 
not  examine  the  relative  morality  of  different  priests 
and  select  the  most  saintly  one." 

"Well  then,  so  much  the  more  is  it  indifferent 
whether  the  inanimate  vessels  we  use  are  chiselled  by  a 
saint  or  an  unbeliever.  Their  use  sanctifies  them,  not 
the  moral  goodness  of  the  artist.      For,  by  your  own 


CHAP.  IX  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  203 

argument,  we  should  otherwise  be  committing  a  sin  if 
we  did  not  find  out  the  most  saintly  men  and  set 
them  to  silver -chiselling  instead  of  ordaining  them 
bishops  and  archbishops.  It  would  take  a  long  time 
to  build  a  church  if  you  only  employed  masons  who 
were  in  a  state  of  grace." 

"Well,  but  would  you  not  prefer  that  the  artist 
should  be  a  good  man  ? " 

"  For  his  own  sake,  Don  Paolo,  for  his  own  sake. 
The  thing  he  makes  is  not  at  all  less  worthy  if  he  is 
bad.  Are  there  not  in  many  of  our  churches  pillars 
that  stood  in  Eoman  temples  ?  Is  not  the  canopy  over 
the  high  altar  in  Saint  Peter's  made  of  the  bronze  roof 
of  the  Pantheon  ?  And  besides,  what  is  goodness  ? 
We  are  all  bad,  but  some  are  worse  than  others. 
It  is  not  our  business  to  judge,  or  to  distribute  com- 
missions for  works  of  art  to  those  whom  we  think  the 
best  among  men,  as  one  gives  medals  and  prizes  to 
industrious  and  well-behaved  children." 

**  That  is  very  clear,  and  very  true,"  answered  the 
priest. 

He  did  not  really  want  to  discuss  the  question 
of  Marzio's  belief  or  unbelief  Perhaps,  if  he  had  not 
been  disturbed  in  mind  by  the  events  of  the  morning 
he  would  have  avoided  the  subject,  as  he  had  often 
done  before  when  the  Cardinal  had  questioned  him. 
But  to-day  he  was  not  quite  himself,  and  being  unable 


204  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  ix 

to  tell  a  falsehood  of  any  kind  he  had  spoken  more  of 
the  truth  than  he  had  wished.  He  felt  that  he  had 
perhaps  been  unjust  to  his  brother.  He  looked  ill  at 
ease,  and  the  Cardinal  noticed  it,  for  he  was  a  kindly 
man  and  very  fond  of  his  secretary. 

"You  must  not  let  the  matter  trouble  you,"  said 
the  prelate,  after  a  pause.  "  I  am  an  inquisitive  old 
man,  as  you  know,  and  I  like  to  be  acquainted  with 
my  friends'  affairs.  But  I  am  afraid  I  have  annoyed 
you " 


"  Oh  !     Your  Eminence  could  never- 


"  Never  intentionally,"  interrupted  the  Cardinal. 
"  But  it  is  human  to  err,  and  it  is  especially  human  to 
bore  one's  fellow-creatures  with  inquisitive  questions. 
We  all  have  our  troubles,  Don  Paolo,  and  I  am  yours. 
Some  day,  perhaps,  you  will  be  a  cardinal  yourself — 
who  knows  ?  I  hope  so.  And  then  you  will  have  an 
excellent  secretary,  who  will  be  much  too  good,  even 
for  you,  and  whom  you  can  torture  by  the  hour 
together  with  inquiries  about  his  relations.  Well,  if 
it  is  only  for  your  sake,  Sor  Marzio  shall  never  have 
any  fewer  commissions,  even  if  he  turn  out  more  in 
earnest  with  his  socialism  than  most  of  those  fellows." 

"  You  are  too  kind,"  said  Paolo  simply. 

He  was  very  grateful  for  the  kindly  words,  for  he 
knew  that  they  were  meant  and  not  said  merely  in 
jest.      The  idea  that  he  had  perhaps  injured  Marzio  in 


OHAP.  TX  MAKZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  205 

the  Cardinal's  estimation  was  very  painful  to  him,  in 
spite  of  what  he  had  felt  that  morning.  Moreover, 
the  prelate's  plain,  common -sense  view  of  the  case 
reassured  him,  and  removed  a  doubt  that  had  long  ago 
disturbed  his  peace  of  mind.  On  reflection  it  seemed 
true  enough,  and  altogether  reasonable,  but  Paolo 
knew  in  his  heart  what  a  sensation  of  repulsion,  not 
to  say  loathing,  he  would  experience  if  he  should  ever 
be  called  upon  to  use  in  the  sacred  services  a  vessel  of 
his  brother's  making.  The  thought  that  those  long, 
cruel  fingers  of  Marzio's  had  hammered  and  worked 
out  the  delicate  design  would  pursue  him  and  disturb 
his  thoughts.  The  sound  of  Marzio's  voice,  mocking 
at  all  the  priest  held  holy,  would  be  in  his  ears  and 
would  mingle  with  the  very  words  of  the  canon. 

But  then,  provided  that  he  himself  were  not  obliged  to 
use  his  brother's  chalices,  what  could  it  matter  ?  The 
Cardinal  did  not  know  the  artist,  and  whatever  picture 
he  might  make  to  himself  of  the  man  would  be 
shadowy  and  indistinct.  The  feeling,  then,  was  his 
own  and  quite  personal.  It  would  be  the  height  of 
superstitious  folly  to  suppose  that  any  evil  principle 
could  be  attached  to  the  silver  and  gold  because  they 
were  chiselled  by  impious  hands.  A  simple  matter 
this,  but  one  which  had  many  a  time  distressed  Don 
Paolo. 

There  was  a  long  pause  after  the  priest's  last  words. 


206  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  ix 

during  which  the  prelate  looked  at  him  from  time  to 
time,  examined  his  own  white  hands,  and  turned  his 
great  ruby  ring  round  his  finger. 

"  Let  us  go  to  work/'  he  said  at  length,  as  though 
dismissing  the  subject  of  the  conversation  from  his 
mind. 

Paolo  fetched  a  large  portfolio  of  papers  and  estab- 
lished himself  at  the  writing-table,  while  the  Cardinal 
examined  the  documents  one  by  one,  and  dictated  what 
he  had  to  say  about  them  to  his  secretary.  During 
two  hours  or  more  the  two  men  remained  steadily  at 
their  task.  When  the  last  paper  was  read  and  the  last 
note  upon  it  written  out,  the  Cardinal  rose  from  his 
arm-chair  and  went  to  the  window.  There  was  no 
sound  in  the  room  but  that  of  the  sand  rattling  upon 
the  stiff  surface,  as  Paolo  poured  it  over  the  wet  ink 
in  the  old-fashioned  way,  shook  it  about  and  returned 
it  to  the  little  sandbox  by  the  inkstand.  Suddenly 
the  old  churchman  turned  round  and  faced  the  priest. 

"  One  of  these  days,  when  you  and  I  are  asleep  out 
there  at  San  Lorenzo,  there  will  be  a  fight,  my  friend," 
he  said. 

"  About  what.  Eminence  ? "  asked  the  other. 

"About  silver  chalices,  perhaps.  About  many 
things.  It  will  be  a  great  fight,  such  as  the  world 
has  never  seen  before." 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  said  Don  Paolo. 


CHAP.   IX 


MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  207 


"Your  brotlier  represents  an  idea,"  answered  the 
Cardinal.  "  That  idea  is  the  subversion  of  all  social 
principle.  It  is  an  idea  which  must  spread,  because 
there  is  an  enormous  number  of  depraved  men  in  the 
world  who  have  a  very  great  interest  in  the  destruction 
of  law.  The  watchword  of  that  party  will  always  be 
'  there  is  no  God,'  because  God  is  order,  and  they  desire 
disorder.  They  will,  it  is  true,  always  be  a  minority, 
because  the  greater  part  of  mankind  are  determined 
that  order  shall  not  be  destroyed.  But  those  fellows 
will  fight  to  the  death,  because  they  know  that  in  that 
battle  there  will  be  no  quarter  for  the  vanquished.  It 
will  be  a  mighty  struggle  and  will  last  long,  but  it 
will  be  decisive,  and  will  perhaps  never  be  revived 
when  it  is  once  over.  Men  will  kill  each  otlier  where- 
ever  they  meet,  during  months  and  years,  before  the 
end  comes,  for  all  men  who  say  that  there  is  a  God  in 
Heaven  will  be  upon  the  one  side,  and  all  those  who 
say  there  is  no  God  will  be  upon  the  other." 

"May  we  not  be  alive  to  see  anything  so  dreadful!" 
exclaimed  Don  Paolo  devoutly. 

"  No,  you  and  I  shall  not  see  it.  But  those  little 
children  who  are  playing  with  chestnuts  down  there  in 
the  court — they  will  see  it.  The  world  is  uneasy  and 
dreads  the  very  name  of  war,  lest  war  should  become 
universal  if  it  once  breaks  out.  TeU  your  brother 
that." 


208  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  ix 

"  It  is  what  he  longs  for.  He  is  always  speaking 
of  it." 

"  Then  it  is  inevitable.  When  many  millions  like 
him  have  determined  that  there  shall  be  evil  done,  it 
cannot  long  be  warded  off.  Their  blood  be  on  their 
own  heads." 

When  Don  Paolo  had  climbed  again  to  his  lonely 
lodging,  half  an  hour  later,  he  pondered  long  upon 
what  the  Cardinal  had  said  to  him,  and  the  longer  he 
thought  of  it,  the  more  truth  there  seemed  to  be  in 
the  prediction. 


CHAPTEE    X 

GiANBATTiSTA  reached  the  church  in  which  he  was  to  do 
his  work,  and  superintended  the  unloading  of  the  carts. 
It  was  but  a  little  after  one  o'clock,  and  he  expected 
to  succeed  in  putting  up  the  grating  before  night.  The 
pieces  were  carefully  carried  to  the  chapel  where  they 
were  to  be  placed,  and  laid  down  in  the  order  in  which 
they  would  be  needed.  It  took  a  long  time  to  arrange 
them,  and  the  apprentice  was  glad  he  had  advised 
Maria  Luisa  and  Lucia  to  come  late.  It  would  have 
wearied  them,  he  reflected,  to  assist  at  the  endless 
fitting  and  screwing  of  the  joints,  and  they  would  have 
had  no  impression  of  the  whole  until  they  were  tired 
of  looking  at  the  details. 

For  hours  he  laboured  with  the  men,  not  allowing 
anything  to  be  done  without  his  supervision,  and  doing 
more  himself  than  any  of  the  workmen.  He  grew  hot 
and  interested  as  the  time  went  on,  and  he  .began  to 
doubt  whether  the  work  could  be  finished  before  sunset. 
The  workmen  themselves,  who  preferred  a  job  of  this 
kind  to  the  regular  occupation  of  the  studio,  seemed  in 


210  MAEZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  x 

no  hurry,  tliougli  tliey  did  what  was  expected  of  them 
quietly  and  methodically.  Each  one  of  them  was 
calculating,  as  nearly  as  possible,  the  length  of  time 
needed  to  drive  a  screw,  to  lift  a  piece  into  position,  to 
finish  off  a  shank  till  it  fitted  closely  in  the  prepared 
socket.  Half  an  hour  wasted  by  driblets  to-day,  would 
ensure  them  for  the  morrow  the  diversion  of  an  hour 
or  two  in  coming  to  the  church  and  returning  from  it. 

From  time  to  time  Gianbattista  glanced  towards 
the  door,  and  as  the  hours  advanced  his  look  took  the 
same  direction  more  often.  At  last,  as  the  rays  of  the 
evening  sun  fell  through  the  western  window,  he  heard 
steps,  and  was  presently  rewarded  by  the  appearance 
of  the  Signora  Pandolfi,  followed  closely  by  Lucia. 
They  greeted  Gianbattista  from  a  distance,  for  the 
church  being  under  repairs  was  closed  to  the  public, 
and  had  not  been  in  use  for  years,  so  that  the  sound 
of  voices  did  not  seem  unnatural  nor  irreverent. 

"  It  is  not  finished,"  said  Gianbattista,  coming  for- 
ward to  meet  them ;  "  but  you  can  see  what  it  will  be 
like.     Another  hour  will  be  enough." 

At  that  moment  Don  Paolo  suddenly  appeared, 
walking  fast  up  the  aisle  in  pursuit  of  the  two 
women.  They  all  greeted  him  with  an  exclamation 
of  surprise. 

"Eh!"  he  exclaimed,  "you  are  astonished  to  see 
me  ?     I  was  passing  and  saw  you  go  in,  and  as  I  knew 


OHAP.  X  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  211 

about  the  grating,  I  guessed  what  you  came  for  and 
followed  you.      Is  Marzio  here  ? " 

"  No,"  answered  Gianbattista.  "  He  said  he  might 
perhaps  come,  but  I  doubt  it.  I  fancy  he  wants  to  be 
alone." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Don  Paolo  thoughtfully,  "  I  daresay 
he  wants  to  be  alone." 

"  He  has  had  a  good  many  emotions  to-day,"  re- 
marked Gianbattista.  "  We  shall  see  how  he  will  be 
this  evening.  Of  course,  you  have  heard  the  news, 
Don  Paolo  ?  Besides,  you  see  I  am  at  work,  so  that 
the  first  great  difference  has  been  settled.  Lucia 
managed  it — she  has  an  eloquence,  that  young  lady  ! 
She  could  preach  better  than  you,  Don  Paolo." 

"  She  is  a  little  angel,"  exclaimed  the  priest,  tapping 
his  niece's  dark  cheek  with  his  white  hand. 

"  That  is  four  to-day  !  "  cried  Lucia,  laughing.  "  First 
mamma,  then  papa — figure  to  yourself  papa  ! — then 
Tista,  and  now  Uncle  Paolo.  Eh !  if  the  wings  don't 
grow  before  the  Ave  Maria " 

She  broke  off  with  a  pretty  motion  of  her  shoulders, 
showing  her  white  teeth  and  turning  to  look  at  Gian- 
battista. Then  the  young  man  took  them  to  see  the 
grating.  A  good  portion  of  it  was  put  up,  and  it  pro- 
duced a  good  effect.  The  whole  thing  was  about  ten 
or  twelve  feet  high,  consisting  of  widely-set  gilt  bars, 
between  which  were   fastened    large    arabesques    and 


212  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  x 

scrolls.  On  each  side  of  the  gate,  in  the  middle,  an 
angel  supported  a  metal  drapery,  of  which  the  folds 
were  in  reality  of  separate  pieces,  but  which,  as  it  now 
appeared,  all  screwed  together  in  its  place,  had  a  very 
free  and  light  effect.  It  was  work  of  a  conventional 
kind  and  of  a  conventional  school,  but  even  here 
Marzio's  great  talent  had  shown  itself  in  his  rare 
knowledge  of  effects  and  free  modelling;  the  high 
lights  were  carefully  chosen  and  followed  out,  and  the 
deep  shadows  of  the  folds  in  dull  gold  gave  a  richness 
to  the  drapery  not  often  found  in  this  species  of  decora- 
tion. The  figures  of  the  angels,  too,  were  done  by  an 
artist's  hand — conventional,  like  the  rest,  but  free  from 
heaviness  or  anatomical  defects. 

"  It  is  not  bad,"  said  Don  Paolo,  in  a  tone  which 
surprised  every  one.  He  was  not  often  slow  to  praise 
his  brother's  work. 

"  How,  not  bad  ?  Is  that  all  you  say  ? "  asked 
Gianbattista,  in  considerable  astonishment.  He  felt, 
too,  that  as  Marzio  and  he  worked  together,  he  deserved 
some  part  of  the  credit.  "  It  is  church  decoration  of 
course,  and  not  a  '  piece,'  as  we  say,  but  I  would  Hke 
to  see  anybody  do  better." 

"  Well,  well,  Tista,  forgive  me,"  he  answered.  "  The 
fact  is,  Marzio  showed  me  something  to-day  so  wonder- 
ful, that  I  see  no  beauty  in  anything  else — or,  at  least, 
not  so  much  beauty  as  I  ought  to  see.     I  went  in  to 


CHAP.    X 


MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  213 


find  him  again,  you  know,  just  as  Lucia  was  leaving, 
and  he  showed  me  a  crucifix — a  marvel,  a  wonder ! — 
he  said  he  had  had  it  a  long  time,  put  away  in  a  box." 

"  I  never  saw  it,"  said  Tista. 

"  I  did  !  "  exclaimed  Lucia.  She  regretted  the  words 
as  soon  as  she  had  spoken  them,  and  bit  her  lip.  She 
had  not  told  her  mother  what  she  had  told  Gianbattista. 

"When  did  you  see  it  ?  Is  it  so  very  beautiful  ?" 
asked  the  Signora  Pandolfi. 

"  Oh,  I  only  saw  it  through  the  door,  when  I  went," 
she  answered  quickly.  "The  door  was  open,  but  I 
knocked  and  I  saw  him  hide  it.  But  I  think  it  was 
very  fine — splendid  !  What  did  you  talk  about,  Uncle 
Paolo  ?  You  have  not  told  us  about  your  visit.  I 
whispered  to  you  that  everything  was  settled,  but  you 
looked  as  though  you  did  not  understand.  What  did 
you  say  to  each  other?" 

"  Oh,  nothing — nothing  of  any  importance,"  said 
Don  Paolo  in  some  embarrassment.  He  suddenly 
recollected  that,  owing  to  his  brother's  strange  conduct, 
he  had  left  the  studio  without  saying  a  w^ord  about  the 
errand  which  had  brought  him.  "Nothing,"  he  re- 
peated. "  We  talked  about  the  crucifix,  and  Marzio 
gave  a  very  long  explanation  of  the  way  it  was  made. 
Besides,  as  Lucia  says,  she  had  told  me  that  everything 
was  settled,  and  Marzio  spoke  very  quietly." 

This  was  literally  true.     Marzio's  words  had  been 


214  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  x 

gentle  enough.  It  was  liis  action  that  had  at  first 
startled  Don  Paolo,  and  had  afterwards  set  him  thinking 
and  reflecting  on  the  events  of  those  few  minutes.  But 
he  would  not  for  anything  in  the  world  have  allowed 
any  of  his  three  companions  to  know  what  had 
happened.  He  was  himself  not  sure.  Marzio  had 
excused  the  position  of  his  hand  hy  saying  that  the 
sun  was  in  his  eyes.  There  was  something  else  in  his' 
eyes,  thought  Paolo  ;  a  look  of  hatred  and  of  eager 
desire  for  blood  which  it  was  horrible  to  remember. 
Perhaps  he  ought  not  to  remember  it,  for  he  might  be 
mistaken  after  all,  and  it  was  a  great  sin  to  suspect 
any  one  of  wishing  to  commit  such  a  crime ;  but  never- 
theless, and  in  spite  of  his  desire  that  it  might  not 
have  been  true,  Don  Paolo  was  conscious  of  having 
received  the  impression,  and  he  was  sure  that  it  had 
not  been  the  result  of  any  foolish  fright.  He  was  not 
a  cowardly  man,  and  although  his  physical  courage 
had  rarely  been  put  to  the  test,  no  one  who  knew  him 
would  have  charged  him  with  the  contemptible  timidity 
which  imagines  danger  gratuitously,  and  is  afraid 
where  no  fear  is.  He  was  of  a  better  temper  than 
Marzio,  who  had  been  startled  so  terribly  by  a  slight 
noise  when  his  back  was  turned.  And  yet  he  had 
been  profoundly  affected  by  the  scene  of  the  morning, 
and  had  not  yet  entirely  recovered  his  serenity. 

Lucia  noticed  the  tone  of  his  answer,  and  suspected 


CHAP.  X  MAKZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  215 

that  something  had  happened,  though  her  suspicion 
took  a  direction  exactly  opposed  to  the  fact.  She 
remembered  what  she  had  seen  herself,  and  recalling 
the  fact  that  Paolo  had  entered  the  workshop  just  as 
she  was  leavinor  it,  she  saw  nothing  unnatural  in  the 
supposition  that  her  father's  conversation  wdth  her 
uncle  had  taken  a  religious  tone.  She  used  the  word 
religion  to  express  to  herself  what  she  meant.  She 
thought  it  quite  possible  that  after  Marzio  had  been  so 
suddenly  softened,  and  evidently  affected,  by  her  own 
fainting  fit,  and  after  having  been  absorbed  in  some 
sort  of  devotional  meditation,  he  might  have  spoken  of 
his  feelings  to  Don  Paolo,  who  in  his  turn  would  have 
seized  the  opportunity  for  working  upon  his  brother's 
mind.  Paolo,  she  thought,  would  naturally  not  care 
to  speak  lightly  of  such  an  occurrence,  and  his  some- 
what constrained  manner  at  the  present  moment  might 
be  attributed  to  this  cause.  To  prevent  any  further 
questions  from  her  mother  or  Gianbattista,  Lucia  inter- 
posed. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  he  seemed  very  quiet.  He  hardly 
spoke  at  dinner.  But  Tista  says  he  may  perhaps  be 
here  before  long,  and  then  we  shall  know." 

It  was  not  very  clear  what  was  to  be  known,  and 
Lucia  hastened  to  direct  their  attention  to  the  new 
grating.  Gianbattista  returned  to  work  with  the  men, 
and  the  two  women  and  Don  Paolo  stood  looking  on. 


216  MAKZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  x 

occasionally  shifting  their  position  to  get  a  better  view 
of  the  work.  Gianbattista  was  mounted  upon  a  ladder 
which  leaned  against  one  of  the  marble  pillars  at  the 
entrance  of  the  side  chapel  closed  by  the  grating.  A 
heavy  piece  of  arabesque  work  had  just  been  got  into 
its  place,  and  was  tied  with  cords  while  the  young  man 
ran  a  screw  through  the  prepared  holes  to  fasten  one 
side  of  the  fragment  to  the  bar.  He  was  awkwardly 
placed,  but  he  had  sent  the  men  to  uncover  and  clean 
the  last  pieces,  at  a  little  distance  from  where  he  was 
at  work.  The  three  visitors  observed  him  with  interest, 
probably  remarking  to  themselves  that  it  must  need 
good  nerves  to  maintain  one's  self  in  such  a  position. 
Don  Paolo,  especially,  was  more  nervous  than  the  rest, 
owing,  perhaps,  to  what  had  occurred  in  the  morning. 
All  at  once,  as  he  watched  Gianbattista's  twisted  atti- 
tude, as  the  apprentice  strained  himself  and  turned  so 
as  to  drive  the  screw  effectually,  the  foot  of  the  ladder 
seemed  to  move  a  little  on  the  smooth  marble  pave- 
ment. With  a  quick  movement  Don  Paolo  stepped 
forward,  with  the  intention  of  grasping  the  ladder. 

Hearing  the  sound  of  rapid  steps,  Gianbattista 
turned  his  head  and  a  part  of  his  body  to  see  what 
had  happened.  The  sudden  movement  shifted  the 
weight,  and  definitely  destroyed  the  balance  of  the 
ladder.  With  a  sharp  screech,  like  that  of  a  bad  pencil 
scratching  on  a  slate,  the  lower  ends  of  the  uprights 


CHAP.  X  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  217 

slipped  outward  from  the  pillar.  Gianbattista  clutched 
at  the  metal  bars  desperately,  but  the  long  screw-driver 
in  his  hands  impeded  him,  and  he  missed  his  hold. 

Don  Paolo,  the  sound  of  whose  step  had  at  first 
made  the  young  man  turn,  and  had  thus  probably  pre- 
cipitated the  accident,  sprang  forward,  threw  himself 
under  the  falling  ladder,  and  grasped  it  with  all  his . 
might.  But  it  was  too  late.  Gianbattista  was  heavy, 
and  the  whole  ladder  with  his  weight  upon  it  had 
gained  too  much  impetus  to  be  easily  stopped  by  one 
man.  With  a  loud  crash  he  fell  with  the  wooden 
frame  upon  the  smooth  marble  floor.  Eolling  to  one 
side,  Gianbattista  leapt  to  his  feet,  dazed  but  apparently 
unhurt. 

The  priest  lay  motionless  in  a  distorted  position 
under  the  ladder,  his  head  bent  almost  beneath  his 
body,  and  one  arm  projecting  upon  the  pavement, 
seemingly  twisted  in  its  socket,  the  palm  upwards. 
The  long  white  fingers  twitched  convulsively  once  or 
twice,  and  then  were  still.  It  was  all  the  affair  of  a 
moment.  Maria  Luisa  screamed  and  leaned  against 
the  pillar  for  support,  while  Lucia  ran  forward  and 
knelt  beside  the  injured  man.  Gianbattista,  whose  life 
had  probably  been  saved  by  Don  Paolo's  quick  action, 
was  dragging  away  the  great  ladder,  and  the  workmen 
came  running  up  in  confusion  to  see  what  had  happened. 

It  seemed  as  though  Marzio's  wish  had  been  accom- 


218  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  x 

plished  without  his  agency.  A  deadly  livid  colour 
overspread  the  priest's  refined  features,  and  as  they 
lifted  him  his  limp  limbs  hung  down  as  though  the 
vitality  would  never  return  to  them — all  except  the 
left  arm,  which  was  turned  stiffly  out  and  seemed  to 
refuse  to  hang  down  with  the  rest.  It  was  dislocated 
at  the  shoulder. 

A  scene  of  indescribable  confusion  followed,  in  which 
Gianbattista  alone  seemed  to  maintain  some  semblance 
of  coolness.  The  rest  all  spoke  and  cried  at  once. 
Maria  Luisa  and  Lucia  knelt  beside  the  body  where 
they  had  laid  it  on  the  steps  of  the  high  altar,  crying 
aloud,  kissing  the  white  hands  and  beating  their 
breasts,  praying,  sobbing,  and  calling  upon  Paolo  to 
speak  to  them,  all  in  a  breath. 

"  He  is  dead  as  a  stone,"  said  one  of  the  workmen 
in  a  low  voice. 

"  Eh  !  He  is  in  Paradise,"  said  another,  kneeling  at 
the  priest's  feet  and  rubbing  them. 

"Take  him  to  the  hospital,  Sor  Tista '* 

"  Better  take  him  home " 

"  I  will  run  and  call  Sor  Marzio " 


"  There  is  an  apothecary  in  the  next  street." 
"  A  doctor  is  better — apothecaries  are  all  murderers." 
Gianbattista,  very  pale,  but   collected    and   steady, 
pushed  the  men  gently  away  from  the  body. 

"  Cari  mid,  my  dear  fellows,"  he  said,  "  he  may  be 


CHAP.  X  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  219 

alive.  One  of  you  run  and  get  a  carriage  to  the  side 
door  of  the  sacristy.  The  rest  of  you  put  the  things 
together  and  be  careful  to  leave  nothing  where  it  can 
fall.  We  will  take  him  to  Sor  Marzio's  house  and  get 
the  best  doctor." 

"There  is  not  even  a  drop  of  holy  water  in  the 
basins,"  moaned  Maria  Luisa. 

"  He  will  go  to  Heaven  without  holy  water,"  sobbed 
Lucia.     "  Oh,  how  good  he  was " 

Gianbattista  kneeled  down  in  his  turn  and  tried 
to  find  the  pulse  in  the  poor  limp  wrist.  Then  he 
listened  for  the  heart.  He  fancied  he  could  hear  a 
faint  flutter  in  the  breast.  He  looked  up  and  a  little 
colour  came  to  his  pale  face. 

"  I  think  he  is  alive,"  he  said  to  the  two  women,  and 
then  bent  down  again  and  listened.  "  Yes,"  he  continued 
joyfully.  "The  heart  beats.  Gently — help  me  to 
carry  him  to  the  sacristy;  get  his  hat  one  of  you.  So 
— carefully — do  not  twist  that  arm.  I  think  I  see 
colour  in  his  cheeks " 

With  four  other  men  Gianbattista  raised  the  body 
and  bore  it  carefully  to  the  sacristy.  The  cab  was 
already  at  the  door,  and  in  a  few  minutes  poor  Don 
Paolo  was  placed  in  it.  The  hood  was  raised,  and 
Maria  Luisa  got  in  and  sat  supporting  the  drooping 
head  upon  her  broad  bosom.  Lucia  took  the  little  seat 
in  front,  and  Gianbattista  mounted  to  the  box,  after 


220  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  x 

directing  the  four  men  to  follow  in  a  second  cab  as  fast 
as  they  could,  to  help  to  carry  the  priest  upstairs.  He 
sent  another  in  search  of  a  surgeon. 

"  Do  not  tell  Sor  Marzio — do  not  go  to  the  work- 
shop," he  said  in  a  last  injunction.  He  knew  that 
Marzio  would  be  of  no  use  in  such  an  emergency,  and 
he  hoped  that  Don  Paolo  might  be  pronounced  out  of 
danger  before  the  chiseller  knew  anything  of  the 
accident. 

In  half  an  hour  the  injured  man  was  lying  in  Gian- 
battista's  bed.  It  was  now  evident  that  he  was  alive, 
for  he  breathed  heavily  and  regularly.  But  the  half- 
closed  eyes  had  no  intelligence  in  them,  and  the  slight 
flush  in  the  hollow  cheeks  was  not  natural  to  see. 
The  twisted  arm  still  stuck  out  of  the  bed-coverings 
in  a  painfully  distorted  attitude.  The  two  women  and 
Gianbattista  stood  by  the  bedside  in  silence,  waiting  foi 
the  arrival  of  the  surgeon. 

He  came  at  last,  a  quiet-looking  man  of  middle  age, 
with  grizzled  hair  and  a  face  deeply  pitted  with  the 
smallpox.  He  seemed  to  know  what  he  was  about, 
for  he  asked  for  a  detailed  account  of  the  accident  from 
Gianbattista  while  he  examined  the  patient.  The  young 
man,  who  was  beginning  to  feel  the  effects  of  the  fall, 
now  that  the  first  excitement  had  subsided,  sat  down 
while  he  told  the  story.  The  surgeon  urged  the  two 
women  to  leave  the  room. 


CHAP.  X  MAEZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  221 

"  The  left  arm  is  dislocated  at  the  shoulder,  without 
fracture,"  said  the  surgeon.  "  Lend  me  a  hand,  will 
you  ?  Hold  his  body  firmly — here  and  here — with  all 
your  might,  while  I  pull  the  joint  into  place.  If  his 
head  or  spine  are  not  injured  the  pain  may  bring  him 
to  consciousness.  That  will  be  a  good  thing.  Now, 
ready — one,  two,  three,  pull !" 

The  two  men  gave  a  vigorous  jerk,  and  to  Gianbat- 
tista's  surprise  the  arm  fell  back  in  a  natural  position, 
but  the  injured  priest's  features  expressed  no  pain. 
He  was  evidently  quite  unconscious.  A  further  ex- 
amination led  the  surgeon  to  believe  that  the  harm  was 
more  serious.  There  was  a  bad  bruise  on  one  side  of 
the  head,  and  more  than  one  upon  other  parts  of  the 
body. 

"  Will  he  live  ?"  asked  Gianbattista  faintly,  as  he 
sank  back  into  his  chair. 

"  Oh  yes — probably.  He  is  likely  to  have  a  brain 
fever.      One  cannot  tell.      How  old  is  he  ?" 

He  asked  one  or  two  other  questions,  arranging  the 
patient's  position  with  skilful  hands  while  he  talked. 
Then  he  asked  for  paper  and  wrote  a  prescription. 

"Nothing  more  can  be  done  for  the  present,"  he 
said.  "  You  should  put  some  ice  on  his  head,  and  if 
he  recovers  consciousness,  so  as  to  speak  before  I  come 
back,  observe  what  he  says.  He  may  be  in  a  delirium, 
or  he   may  talk   quite   rationally.      One   cannot   telL 


222  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  x 

Send  for  this  medicine  and  give  it  to  liim  if  he  is 
conscious.  Otherwise,  only  keep  his  head  cool.  I 
will  come  back  early  in  the  evening.  You  are  not 
hurt  yourself?"  he  inquired,  looking  at  Gianbattista 
curiously. 

"  No  ;  I  am  badly  shaken,  and  my  hands  are  a  little 
cut — that  is  all,"  answered  the  young  man. 

"What  a  beautiful  thing  youth  is!"  observed  the 
surgeon  philosophically,  as  he  went  away. 

Gianbattista  remained  alone  in  the  sick-room,  seated 
upon  his  chair  by  the  head  of  the  bed.  With  anxious 
interest  and  attention  he  watched  the  expressionless 
face  as  the  heavy  breath  came  and  went  between  the 
parted  lips.  In  the  distance  he  could  hear  the  sobbing 
and  incoherent  talk  of  the  two  women,  as  the  doctor 
explained  to  them  Paolo's  condition,  but  he  was  now 
too  Uiuch  dazed  to  give  any  thought  to  them.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  Don  Paolo  had  sacrificed  his  life 
for  him,  and  that  he  had  no  other  duty  than  to  sit 
beside  the  bed  and  watch  his  friend.  All  the  impres- 
sions of  the  afternoon  were  very  much  confused,  and 
the  shock  of  the  fall  had  told  upon  his  nerves  far  more 
severely  than  he  had  at  first  realised.  His  limbs 
ached  and  his  hands  pained  him ;  at  the  same  time 
he  felt  dizzy,  and  the  outline  of  Don  Paolo's  face  grew 
indistinct  as  he  watched  it.  He  was  roused  by  the 
entry  of  Lucia,   who  had    hastily  laid  aside  her  hat. 


CHAP.  X  MAKZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  223 

Her  face  was  pale,  and  lier  dark  eyes  were  swollen 
with  tears ;  her  hair  was  in  disorder  and  was  failing 
about  her  neck.  Gianbattista  instinctively  rose  and 
put  his  arm  about  the  girl's  waist  as  they  stood  to- 
gether and  looked  at  the  sick  man.  He  felt  that  it 
was  his  duty  to  comfort  her. 

"  The  doctor  thinks  he  may  get  well/'  he  said. 

"  Who  knows,"  she  answered  tearfully,  and  shook 
her  head,     "  Oh,  Tista,  he  was  our  best  friend  !" 

"  It  was  in  trying  to  save  me "  said  the  young 

fellow.  But  he  got  no  further.  The  words  stuck  in 
his  throat. 

"  If  he  lives  I  will  be  a  son  to  him  !"  he  added 
presently.  "  I  will  never  leave  him.  But  perhaps — 
perhaps  he  is  too  good  to  live,  Lucia !" 

"  He  must  not  die.  I  will  take  care  of  him,"  an- 
swered Lucia.  "  You  must  pray  for  him,  Tista,  and  I 
will— we  all  will !" 

"  Eh  !  I  will  try,  but  I  don't  understand  that  kind 
of  thing  as  well  as  you,"  said  Gianbattista  dolefully. 
"  If  you  think  it  is  of  any  use " 

"  Of  course  it  is  of  use,  my  heart ;  do  not  doubt  it," 
replied  the  young  girl  gravely.  Then  her  features 
suddenly  quivered,  she  turned  away,  and,  hiding  her 
face  on  the  pillow  beside  the  priest's  unconscious 
head,  she  sobbed  as  though  her  heart  would 
break.       Gianbattista   knelt    down    at    her    side    and 


224  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  CHAP,  x 

put  his  arm  round  her  neck,  whispering  lovingly  in 
her  ear. 

The  day  was  fading,  and  the  last  glow  of  the  sun  in 
the  south-western  sky  came  through  the  small  window 
at  the  other  end  of  the  narrow  room,  illuminating  the 
simple  furniture,  the  white  bed  coverings,  the  upturned 
face  of  the  injured  man,  and  the  two  young  figures 
that  knelt  at  the  bedside.  It  was  Gianbattista's  room, 
and  there  was  little  enough  in  it.  The  bare  bricks, 
with  only  a  narrow  bit  of  green  drugget  by  the  bed, 
the  plain  deal  table  before  the  window,  the  tiny  round 
mirror  set  in  lead,  at  which  the  apprentice  shaved 
himself,  the  crazy  old  chest  of  drawers — that  was  all. 
The  whitewashed  walls  were  relieved  by  two  or  three 
drawings  of  chalices  and  other  church  vessels,  the 
colour  of  the  gold  or  silver,  and  of  the  gems,  washed 
into  one  half  of  the  design  and  the  other  side  left  in 
black  and  white.  A  little  black  cross  hung  above  the 
bedstead,  with  a  bit  of  an  olive  branch  nailed  over  it 
— a  reminiscence  of  the  last.  Palm  Sunday.  There 
were  two  nails  in  another  part  of  the  room,  on  which 
some  old  clothes  were  hung — that  was  all.  But  the 
deep  light  of  the  failing  day  shed  a  peaceful  halo  over 
everything,  and  touched  the  coarse  details  of  a  hard- 
working existence  with  the  divine  light  of  Heaven. 

Lucia's  sobbing  ceased  after  a  while,  and,  as  the 
sunset  faded  into  twilight  and  dusk,  the  silence  grew 


CHAP.  X  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  225 

more  profound ;  the  sick  man's  breathing  "became 
lighter,  as  though  in  his  unconsciousness  he  were 
beginning  to  rest  after  the  day  in  which  he  had 
endured  so  much.  From  the  sitting-room  beyond 
the  short  passage  the  sound  of  Maria  Luisa's  voice, 
moaning  in  concert  with  old  Assunta,  gradually 
diminished  till  they  were  heard  only  at  intervals, 
and  at  last  ceased  altogether.  The  household  of  Marzio 
Pandolfi  was  hushed  in  the  presence  of  a  great  sorrow, 
and  awed  by  the  anticipation  of  a  great  misfortune. 


CHAPTER   XI 

Marzio,  in  ignorance  of  all  that  was  happening  at  the 
church,  continued  to  work  in  the  solitude  of  his  studio, 
and  the  current  of  his  thoughts  flowed  on  in  the  same 
channel.  He  tried  to  force  his  attention  upon  the 
details  of  the  design  he  meditated  against  his  brother's 
life,  and  for  some  time  he  succeeded.  But  another 
influence  had  begun  to  work  upon  his  brain,  since  the 
moment  when  he  had  been  frightened  by  the  sound 
behind  him  while  he  was  examining  tlie  hole  beneath 
the  strong  box.  He  would  not  own  to  himself  that 
such  a  senseless  fear  could  have  produced  a  permanent 
impression  on  him,  and  yet  he  felt  disturbed  and  un- 
settled, unaccountably  discomposed,  and  altogether  un- 
comfortable. He  could  not  help  looking  round  from 
time  to  time  at  the  door,  and  more  than  once  his  eyes 
rested  for  several  seconds  upon  the  safe,  while  a  slight 
shiver  ran  through  his  body  and  seemed  to  chill  his 
fingers. 

But  he  worked  on  in  spite  of  all  this.     The  habit  of 
the  chisel  was  not  to  be  destroyed  by  the  fancied  scare 


CHAP.  XI  MARZIO'S    CEUCIFIX  227 

of  a  moment,  and  though  his  eyes  wandered  now  and 
then,  they  came  back  to  the  silver  statue  as  keen  as 
ever.  A  little  touch  with  the  steel  at  one  point,  a 
little  burnishing  at  another,  the  accentuation  of  a  line, 
the  deepening  of  a  shadow — he  studied  every  detail 
with  a  minute  and  scrupulous  care  which  betrayed  his 
love  for  the  work  he  was  doing. 

And  yet  the  uneasiness  grew  upon  him.  He  felt 
somehow  as  though  Paolo  were  present  in  the  room 
with  him,  watching  him  over  his  shoulder,  suggesting 
improvements  to  be  made,  in  that  voice  of  his  which 
now  rang  distinctly  in  the  artist's  ear.  His  imagina- 
tion worked  morbidly,  and  he  thought  of  Paolo  stand- 
ing beside  him,  ordering  him  to  do  this  or  that  against 
his  will,  until  he  began  to  doubt  his  own  judgment  in 
regard  to  what  he  was  doing.  He  wondered  whether 
he  should  feel  the  same  thing  when  Paolo  was  dead. 
Again  he  looked  behind  him,  and  the  idea  that  he  was 
not  alone  gained  force.  Nevertheless  the  room  was 
bright,  brighter  indeed  in  the  afternoon  than  it  ever 
was  in  the  morning,  for  the  window  was  towards  the 
south,  and  though  the  first  rays  of  the  sun  reached  it 
at  about  eleven  in  the  morning,  the  buildings  after- 
wards darkened  it  again  until  the  sun  was  in  the  west. 
Moreover  to-day,  the  weather  had  been  changeable, 
and  it  had  rained  a  little  about  noon.  Now  the  air 
was  again  clear,  and  the  workshop  was  lit  up  so  that 


228  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  xi 

the  light  penetrated  even  to  the  ancient  cobwebs  in 
the  corners,  and  touched  the  wax  models  and  casts  on 
the  shelves,  and  gilded  the  old  wood  of  the  door  oppo- 
site with  rich  brown  gold.  Marzio  had  a  curtain  of 
dusty  grey  linen  which  he  drew  across  the  lower  part 
of  the  window  to  keep  the  sunshine  off  his  work. 

He  was  impatient  with  himself,  and  annoyed  by  the 
persistency  of  the  impression  that  Paolo  was  in  some 
way  present  in  the  place.  As  though  to  escape  from 
it  by  braving  it  he  set  himself  resolutely  to  consider 
the  expediency  of  destroying  his  brother.  The  first 
quick  impulse  in  the  morning  had  developed  to  a 
purpose  in  the  afternoon.  He  had  constructed  the 
probable  occurrences  out  of  the  materials  of  his  imagin- 
ation, and  had  done  it  so  vividly  as  to  frighten  himself. 
The  fright  had  in  some  measure  cooled  his  intention, 
and  had  been  now  replaced  by  a  new  element  in  his 
thoughts,  by  the  apprehension  for  the  future  if  the 
deed  were  accomplished.  He  began  to  speculate  upon 
what  would  happen  afterwards,  wondering  whether  by 
any  means  the  murder  could  be  discovered,  and  if  in 
that  case  it  could  ever  be  traced  to  him. 

At  the  first  faint  suggestion  that  such  a  thing  as  he 
was  devising  could  possibly  have  another  issue  than 
he  had  supposed,  Marzio  felt  a  cold  sensation  in  his 
heart,  and  his  thoughts  took  a  different  direction.  It 
was  all  simple  enough.      To  get   Paolo  into  the  work- 


CHAP.  XI  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  229 

shop  alone — a  blow — the  concealment  of  the  dead 
body  until  night — then  the  short  three  hundred  yards 
with  the  hand-cart — it  seemed  very  practicable.  Yes, 
but  if  by  any  chance  he  should  meet  a  policeman  under 
those  low  trees  in  the  Piazza  de'  Branca,  what  would 
happen  ?  A  man  with  a  hand-cart,  and  with  some- 
thing shapeless  upon  the  hand-cart,  in  the  dark,  hurry- 
ins:  towards  the  river — such  a  man  would  excite  the 
suspicions  of  a  policeman.  Marzio  might  be  stopped 
and  asked  what  he  was  taking  away.  He  would 
answer — what  would  he  answer  in  such  a  case  ?  The 
hand-cart  would  be  examined  and  found  to  contain  a 
dead  priest.  Besides,  he  reflected  that  the  wheels 
would  make  a  terrible  clatter  in  the  silent  streets  at 
night.  Of  course  he  might  go  out  and  walk  down  to 
the  river  first  and  see  if  there  was  anybody  in  the  way, 
but  even  then  he  could  not  be  sure  of  finding  no  one 
when  he  returned  with  his  burden. 

But  there  was  the  cellar,  after  all.  He  could  go 
down  in  the  night  and  bury  his  brother's  body  there. 
No  one  ever  went  down,  not  even  he  himself.  Who 
would  suspect  the  place  ?  It  would  be  a  ghastly  job, 
the  chiseller  thought.  He  fancied  how  it  would  be  in 
the  cold,  damp  vault  with  a  lantern — the  white  face  of 
the  murdered  man.  No,  he  shrank  from  thinking  of  it. 
It  was  too  horrible  to  be  thouglit  of  until  it  should  be 
absolutely  necessary.      But  the  place  was  a  good  one. 


2:^0  MARZIO*S    CRUCIFIX  CHAP.  XI 

And  then  when  Paolo  was  buried  deep  under  the 
damp  stones,  who  would  be  the  first  to  ask  for  him  ? 
For  two  or  three  days  no  one  would  be  much  surprised 
if  he  did  not  come  to  the  house.  Marzio  would  say 
that  he  had  met  him  in  the  street,  and  that  Paolo  had  ex- 
cused himself  for  not  coming,  on  the  ground  of  extreme 
pressure  of  work.  But  the  Cardinal,  whom  he  served 
as  secretary,  would  ask  for  the  missing  man.  He 
would  be  the  first.  The  Cardinal  would  be  told  that 
Paolo  had  not  slept  at  home,  in  his  lodging  high  up 
in  the  old  palace,  and  he  would  send  at  once  to 
Marzio's  house  to  know  where  his  secretary  was. 
Well,  he  might  send,  Marzio  would  answer  that  he  did 
not  know,  and  the  matter  would  end  there. 

It  would  be  hard  to  sit  calmly  at  the  bench  all  day 
with  Gianbattista  at  his  side.  He  would  probably 
look  very  often  at  the  iron-bound  box.  Gianbattista 
would  notice  that,  and  in  time  he  would  grow  curious, 
and  perhaps  explore  the  cellar.  It  would  be  a  miser- 
able ending  to  such  a  drama  to  betray  himself  by  his 
own  weakness  after  it  was  all  done,  and  Paolo  was 
gone  for  ever — a  termination  unworthy  of  Marzio,  the 
strong-minded  freethinker.  To  kill  a  priest,  and  then 
be  as  nervous  and  conscious  as  a  boy  in  a  scrape  J 
The  chiseller  tried  to  laugh  aloud  in  his  old  way,  but 
the  effort  was  ineffectual,  and  ended  in  a  painful  twist- 
ing of  the  lips,  accompanied  by  a  glance  at  the  corner. 


CHAP.  XI  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  231 

It  would  not  do ;  lie  was  weak,  and  was  forced  to 
submit  to  the  humiliation  of  acknowledging  the  fact 
to  himself  With  a  bitter  scorn  of  his  incapacity,  he 
began  to  wonder  whether  he  could  ever  get  so  far  as 
to  kill  Paolo  in  the  first  instance.  He  foresaw  that  if 
he  did  kill  him,  he  could  never  get  rid  of  him  after- 
wards. 

Where  do  people  go  when  they  die  ?  The  question 
rose  suddenly  in  the  mind  of  the  unbeliever,  and 
seemed  to  demand  an  answer.  He  had  answered 
often  enough  over  a  pint  of  wine  at  the  inn,  with 
Gasparo  Carnesecchi  the  lawyer  and  the  rest  of  his 
friends.  Nowhere.  That  was  the  answer,  clear  enough. 
Wlien  a  man  dies  he  goes  to  the  ground,  as  a  slaughtered 
ox  to  the  butcher's  stall,  or  a  dead  horse  to  the 
knacker's.  That  is  the  end  of  him,  and  it  is  of  no  use 
asking  any  more  questions.  You  might  as  well  ask  what 
becomes  of  the  pins  that  are  lost  by  myriads  of  millions, 
to  the  weight  of  many  tons  in  a  year.  You  might  as 
well  inquire  what  becomes  of  anything  that  is  old,  or 
worn  out,  or  broken.  A  man  is  like  anything  else, 
an  agglomeration  of  matter,  capable  of  a  few  more 
tricks  than  a  monkey,  and  capable  of  a  few  less  than 
a  priest.  He  dies,  and  is  swallowed  up  by  the  earth 
and  gives  no  more  trouble.  These  were  the  answers 
Marzio  was  accustomed  to  give  to  the  question, 
"  Where  do  people  go  to  when  they  die  ?  '*      Hitherto 


232  MAEZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  xi 

they  had  satisfied  him,  as  they  appear  to  satisfy  a  very 
small  minority  of  idiots. 

But  what  would  become  of  Paolo  when  Marzio  had 
killed  him  ?  Well,  in  time  his  body  would  become 
earth,  that  was  all.  There  was  something  else,  how- 
ever. Marzio  was  conscious  to  certainty  that  Paolo 
would  in  some  way  or  other  be  at  his  elbow  ever 
afterwards,  just  as  he  seemed  to  feel  his  presence  this 
afternoon  in  the  workshop.  What  sort  of  presence 
would  it  be  ?  Marzio  could  not  tell,  but  he  knew  he 
should  feel  it.  It  did  not  matter  whether  it  were  real 
to  others  or  not,  it  would  be  too  real  to  him.  He 
could  never  get  rid  of  the  sensation ;  it  would  haunt 
him  and  oppress  him  for  the  rest  of  his  life,  and  he 
should  have  no  peace. 

How  could  it,  if  it  were  not  a  real  thing  ?  Even 
the  priests  said  that  the  spirits  of  dead  men  did  not 
come  back  to  earth ;  how  much  more  impossible  must 
it  be  in  Marzio's  view,  since  he  denied  that  man  had  a 
soul.  It  would  then  only  be  the  effect  of  his  imagina- 
tion recalling  constantly  the  past  deed,  and  a  thing 
which  only  existed  in  imagination  did  not  exist  at  all. 
If  it  did  not  exist,  it  could  not  be  feared  by  a  sensible 
man.      Consequently  there  was  nothing  to  fear. 

The  conclusion  contradicted  the  given  facts  from 
which  he  had  argued,  and  the  chiseller  was  puzzled. 
For  the   first  time  his  method  of  reasoning   did   not 


CHAP.  XI  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  233 

satisfy  him,  and  he  tried  to  find  out  the  cause.  Was 
it,  he  asked  to  himself,  because  there  lingered  in  his 
mind  some  early  tradition  of  the  wickedness  of  doing 
murder?  Since  there  was  no  soul,  there  was  no 
absolute  right  and  wrong,  and  everything  must  be 
decided  by  the  standard  of  expediency.  It  was  a 
mistake  to  allow  people  to  murder  each  other  openly, 
of  course,  because  people  of  less  intellectual  capacity 
would  take  upon  themselves  to  judge  such  cases  in 
their  own  way.  But  provided  that  public  morality,  the 
darling  of  the  real  freethinker,  were  not  scandalised, 
there  would  be  no  inherent  wrong  in  doing  away 
with  Paolo.  On  the  contrary,  his  death  would  be  a 
benefit  to  the  community  at  large,  and  an  advantage 
to  Marzio  in  particular.  ISTot  a  pecuniary  advantage 
either,  for  in  Marzio's  strange  system  there  would  have 
been  an  immorality  in  murdering  Paolo  for  his  money 
if  he  had  ever  had  any,  though  it  seemed  right  enough 
to  kill  him  for  an  idea.  That  is,  to  a  great  extent, 
the  code  of  those  persons  who  believe  in  nothing  but 
what  they  call  great  ideas.  The  individuals  who 
murdered  the  Czar  would  doubtless  have  scrupled  to 
rob  a  gentleman  in  the  street  of  ten  francs.  The  same 
reasoning  developed  itself  in  Marzio's  brain.  If  his 
brother  had  been  rich,  it  would  have  been  a  crime  to 
murder  him  for  his  wealth.  It  was  no  crime  to  murder 
him  for  an  idea.      Marzio  said  to  himself  that  to  get 


234  MAEZIO'S    CKUCIFiX  chap,  xi 

rid  of  Paolo  would  be  to  emancipate  himself  and  his 
family  from  the  rule  and  interference  of  a  priest,  and 
that  such  a  proceeding  was  only  the  illustration  on 
a  small  scale  of  what  he  desired  for  his  country ; 
consequently  it  was  just,  and  therefore  it  ought  to 
be  done. 

Unfortunately  for  his  logic,  the  continuity  of  his 
deductions  was  blocked  by  a  consideration  which  he 
had  not  anticipated.  That  consideration  could  only  be 
described  as  fear  for  the  future,  and  it  had  been  forcibly 
thrust  upon  him  by  the  fright  he  had  received  while 
he  was  examining  the  hole  in  the  floor.  In  order  to 
neutralise  it,  Marzio  had  tried  the  experiment  of 
braving  what  he  considered  to  be  a  momentary  terror 
by  obstinately  studying  the  details  of  the  plan  he 
intended  to  execute.  To  his  surprise  he  found  that  he 
returned  to  the  same  conclusion  as  before.  He  came 
back  to  that  unaccountable  fear  of  the  future  as  surely 
as  a  body  thrown  upwards  falls  again  to  the  earth. 
He  went  over  it  all  in  his  mind  again,  twice,  three 
times,  twenty  times.  As  often  as  he  reached  the  stage 
at  which  he  imagined  Paolo  dead,  hidden,  and  buried 
in  a  cellar,  the  same  shiver  passed  through  him  as 
he  glanced  involuntarily  behind  him.  Why  ?  What 
power  could  a  dead  body  possibly  exercise  over  a  living 
man  in  the  full  possession  of  his  senses  ? 

Here  was  somethin^jj  which  IMarzio  could  not  under- 


CHAP.  XI  MAEZIO'S    CKUCIFIX  235 

stand,  but  of  which  he  was  made  aware  "by  his  own 
feelings.  The  difficulty  only  increased  in  magnitude 
as  he  faced  it,  considered  it,  and  tried  to  view  it  from  all 
its  horrible  aspects.  But  he  could  not  overcome  it. 
He  might  laugh  at  the  existence  of  the  soul  and  jest 
about  the  future  state  after  death ;  he  could  not  escape 
from  the  future  in  this  life  if  he  did  the  deed  he  con- 
templated. He  should  see  the  dead  man's  face  by  day 
and  night  as  long  as  he  lived. 

This  forced  conclusion  was  in  logical  accordance 
with  his  original  nature  and  developed  character,  for 
it  was  the  result  of  that  economical,  cautious  disposition 
which  foresees  the  consequences  of  action  and  guides 
itself  accordingly.  Even  in  the  moment  when  he  had 
nearly  killed  Paolo  that  morning  he  had  not  been  free 
from  this  tendency.  In  the  instant  when  he  had 
raised  the  tool  to  strike  he  had  thought  of  the  means 
of  disposing  of  the  body  and  of  hindering  suspicion. 
The  panorama  of  coming  circumstances  had  presented 
itself  to  his  mind  with  the  rapidity  of  a  flash  of  light- 
ning, but  in  that  infinitesimal  duration  of  time  Paolo 
had  turned  round,  and  the  opportunity  was  gone.  His 
mind  had  worked  quickly,  but  it  had  not  gone  to  the 
end  of  its  reasoning.  Now  in  the  solitude  of  his 
studio  he  had  found  leisure  to  follow  out  the  results 
to  the  last  link  of  the  chain.  He  saw  clearly  that 
even  if  he  eluded  discovery  after  the  crime,  he  could 


236  MARZIO'S    CKUCIFIX  CHAP,  xi 

never  escape   from  the   horror  of  his    dead  brother's 
presence. 

He  laid  the  silver  figure  of  the  Christ  straight 
before  him  upon  the  leathern  pad,  and  looked  intently 
at  it,  while  his  hands  played  idly  with  the  tools  upon 
the  table.  His  deep-set,  heavy  eyes  gazed  fixedly  at 
the  wonderful  face,  with  an  expression  which  had  not 
yet  been  there.  There  was  no  longer  any  smile  upon 
his  thin  lips,  and  his  dark  emaciated  features  were 
restful  and  quiet,  almost  solemn  in  their  repose. 

"  I  am  glad  1  did  not  do  it,"  he  said  aloud  after 
some  minutes. 

Still  he  gazed  at  his  work,  and  the  impression  stole 
over  him  that  but  for  a  slight  thing  he  might  yet  have 
killed  his  brother.  If  he  had  left  the  figure  more 
securely  propped  upon  the  pad,  it  could  not  have 
slipped  upon  the  bench ;  it  could  not  have  made  that 
small  distinct  sound  just  as  he  was  examining  the 
place  which  was  to  have  been  his  brother's  grave ;  he 
would  not  have  been  suddenly  frightened ;  he  would 
not  have  gone  over  the  matter  in  his  mind  as  he  had 
done,  from  the  point  of  view  of  a  future  fear;  he 
would  have  waited  anxiously  for  another  opportunity, 
and  when  it  presented  itself  he  would  have  struck  the 
blow,  and  Paolo  would  have  been  dead,  if  not  to-day, 
to-morrow.  There  would  have  been  a  search  which 
might  or  might  not  have  resulted  in  the  discovery  of 


CHAP.  XI  MAEZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  237 

the  body.  Then  there  would  have  been  the  heart- 
rending grief  of  his  wife,  of  Lucia,  and  the  black 
suspicious  looks  of  Gianbattista.  The  young  man  had 
heard  him  express  a  wish  that  Paolo  might  disappear. 
His  home  would  have  been  a  hell,  instead  of  being 
emancipated  from  tyranny  as  he  had  at  first  imagined. 
Discovery  and  conviction  would  have  come  at  last,  the 
galleys  for  life  for  himself,  dishonour  and  contempt  for 
his  family. 

He  remembered  Paolo's  words  as  he  stood  contem- 
plating the  crucifix  just  before  that  moment  which  had 
nearly  been  his  last.  Qui  propter  nos  homines  et  propter 
nostram  salutem — "  Who  for  us  men  and  for  our  sal- 
vation came  down  from  Heaven."  In  a  strange  revul- 
sion of  feeling  Marzio  applied  the  words  to  himself, 
with  an  odd  simplicity  that  was  at  once  pathetic  and 
startling. 

"  If  Christ  had  not  died,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  I 
should  not  have  made  this  crucifix.  If  I  had  not 
made  it,  it  would  not  have  frightened  me.  I  should 
have  killed  my  brother.  It  has  saved  me.  '  For  us 
men  and  for  our  salvation ' — those  are  the  words — for 
my  salvation,  it  is  very  strange.  Poor  Paolo !  If  he 
knew  to  what  he  owed  his  life  he  would  be  pleased. 
Who  can  believe  such  things  ?  Who  would  have 
believed  this  if  I  had  told  it  ?     And  yet  it  is  true." 

For  some  minutes  still  he  gazed  at  the  figure.     Then 


238  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  xi 

he  shook  himself  as  though  to  rouse  his  mind  from  a 
trance,  and  took  up  his  tools.  He  did  not  glance 
behind  him  again,  and,  for  the  time  at  least,  his 
nervous  dislike  of  the  box  in  the  corner  seemed  to 
have  ceased.  He  laboured  with  patient  care,  touching 
and  re-touching,  believing  that  each  tap  of  the  hammer 
should  be  the  last,  and  yet  not  wholly  satisfied. 

The  light  waned,  and  he  took  down  the  curtain  to 
admit  the  last  glows  of  the  evening.  He  could  do  no 
more,  art  itself  could  have  done  no  more  to  beautify 
and  perfect  the  masterpiece  that  lay  upon  the  cushion 
before  him.  The  many  hours  he  had  spent  in  putting 
the  last  finish  upon  the  work  had  produced  their  result. 
His  hand  had  imparted  something  to  the  features  of 
the  dying  head  which  had  not  been  there  before,  and 
as  he  stood  over  the  bench  he  knew  that  he  had  sur- 
passed his  greatest  work.  He  went  and  fetched  the 
black  cross  from  the  shelf,  and  polished  its  smooth 
surface  carefully  with  a  piece  of  silk.  Then  he  took 
the  figure  tenderly  in  his  hands  and  laid  it  in  its 
position.  The  small  screws  turned  evenly  in  the 
threads,  fitting  closely  into  their  well-concealed  places, 
and  the  work  was  finished.  Marzio  placed  the  whole 
crucifix  upon  the  bench  and  sat  down  to  look  at  it. 

It  made  a  strong  impression  upon  him,  this  thing  of 
his  own  hands,  and  again  he  remained  a  long  time 
resting  his  chin  upon  his  folded  fingers  and  gazing  up 


CHAP.  XI  MAPxZIO's    CRUCIFIX  239 

nt  the  drooping  lids.  The  shadows  lay  softly  on  the 
modelled  silver,  so  softly  that  the  metal  itself  seemed 
to  tremble  and  move,  and  in  his  reverie  Marzio  could 
almost  have  expected  the  divine  eyes  to  open  and  look 
into  his  face.  And  gradually  the  shadows  deepened 
more  and  more,  and  gathered  into  gloom  till  in  the 
dark  the  black  arms  of  the  cross  scarcely  stood  out 
from  the  darkness,  and  in  the  last  lingering  twilight 
he  could  see  only  the  clear  outline  of  the  white  head 
and  outstretched  hands,  that  seemed  to  emit  a  soft 
radiance  gathered  from  the  brightness  of  the  departed 
day. 

Marzio  struck  a  match  and  lit  his  lamp.  His 
thoughts  were  so  wholly  absorbed  that  he  had  not 
remembered  the  workmen,  nor  wondered  why  they 
had  not  come  back.  After  all,  most  of  them  lived  in 
the  direction  of  the  churcli,  and  if  they  had  finished 
their  work  late  they  would  very  probably  go  home 
without  returning  to  the  shop.  The  chiseller  wrapped 
the  crucifix  in  the  old  white  cloth,  and  laid  it  in  its 
plain  wooden  box,  but  he  did  not  screw  the  cover 
down,  merely  putting  it  on  loosely  so  that  it  could  be 
removed  in  a  moment.  He  laid  his  tools  in  order, 
mechanically,  as  he  did  every  evening,  and  then  he 
extinguished  the  light  and  made  his  way  to  the  door, 
carrying  the  box  under  his  arm. 

The   boy  who   alone   had    remained    at  work   had 


240  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  xi 

lighted  a  tallow  candle,  and  was  sitting  dangling  his 
heels  from  his  stool  as  Marzio  came  out. 

"  Still  here  !  "  exclaimed  the  artist. 

"  Eh !  You  did  not  tell  me  to  go,"  answered  the 
lad. 

Marzio  locked  the  heavy  outer  door  and  crossed 
over  to  his  house,  while  the  boy  went  whistling  down 
the  street  in  the  dusk.  Slowly  the  artist  mounted  the 
stairs,  pondering,  as  he  went,  on  the  many  emotions  of 
the  day,  and  at  last  repeating  his  conclusion,  that  he 
was  glad  that  he  had  not  killed  Paolo. 

By  a  change  of  feeling  which  he  did  not  wholly 
realise,  he  felt  for  the  first  time  in  many  years  that  he 
would  be  glad  to  see  his  brother  alive  and  well.  He 
had  that  day  so  often  fancied  him  dead,  lying  on  the 
floor  of  the  workshop,  or  buried  in  a  dark  corner  of  the 
cellar,  that  the  idea  of  meeting  him,  calm  and  well  as 
ever,  had  something  refreshing  in  it.  It  was  like  the 
waking  from  a  hideous  dream  of  evil  to  find  that  the 
harm  is  still  undone,  to  experience  that  sense  of 
unutterable  relief  which  every  one  knows  when  the 
dawn  suddenly  touches  the  outlines  of  familiar  objects 
in  the  room,  and  dispels  in  an  instant  the  visions  of 
the  night. 

Paolo  might  not  come  that  evening,  but  at  least 
Maria  Luisa  and  Lucia  would  speak  of  him,  and  it 
would  be  a  comfort  to  hear  his  name  spoken  aloud. 


CHAP,  xr  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  241 

Marzio's  step  quickened  with  the  thought,  and  in 
another  moment  he  was  at  the  door.  To  his  surprise 
it  was  opened  before  he  could  ring,  and  old  Assunta 
came  forward  with  her  wrinkled  fingers  raised  to  her 
lips. 

"  Hist !  hist !  "  she  whispered.  "  It  goes  a  little 
better — or  at  least " 

"  What  ?  Who  ?  "  asked  Marzio,  instinctively  whis- 
pering also. 

"  Eh  !  You  have  not  heard  ?  Don  Paolo — they 
have  killed  him  !  " 

"  Paolo  !  "  exclaimed  Marzio,  staggering  and  leaning 
against  the  door-post. 

"  He  is  not  dead — not  dead  yet  at  least,"  went  on 
the  old  woman  in  low,  excited  tones.  "  He  was  in  the 
church  with  Tista — a  ladder " 

Marzio  did  not  stop  to  hear  more,  but  pushed  past 
Assunta  with  his  burden  under  his  arm,  and  entered 
the  passage.  The  door  at  the  end  was  open,  and  he 
saw  his  wife  standing  in  the  bright  light  in  the  sitting- 
room,  anxiously  looking  towards  him  as  though  she 
had  heard  his  coming. 

"  For  God's  sake,  Gigia,"  he  said,  addressing  her  by 
her  old  pet  name,  "  tell  me  quickly  what  has  hap- 
pened ! " 

The  Signora  Pandolfi  explained  as  well  as  she  could, 
frequently  giving  way  to  her  grief  in  passionate  sobs. 

R 


242  MAEZTO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  xi 

She  was  incoherent,  but  the  facts  were  so  simple  that 
Marzio  understood  them.  He  was  standing  hy  the 
table,  his  hand  resting  upon  the  wooden  case  he  had 
brought,  and  his  face  was  very  pale. 

"  Let  me  understand,"  he  said  at  last.  "  Tista  was 
on  the  ladder.  The  ladder  slipped,  Paolo  ran  to  catch 
it,  and  it  fell  on  him.  He  is  badly  hurt,  but  not 
dead  ;  is  that  it,  Gigia  ?  " 

Maria  Luisa  nodded  in  the  midst  of  a  fit  of  weep- 
ing. 

"  The  surgeon  has  been,  you  say  ?  Yes.  And  where 
is  Paolo  lying  ? " 

"  In  Tista's  room,"  sobbed  his  wife.  "  They  are  with 
him  now." 

Marzio  stood  still  and  hesitated.  He  was  under  the 
influence  of  the  most  violent  emotion,  and  his  face 
betrayed  something  of  what  he  felt.  The  idea  of 
Paolo's  death  had  played  a  tremendous  part  in  his 
thoughts  during  the  whole  day,  and  he  had  firmly 
believed  that  he  had  got  rid  of  that  idea,  and  was  to 
realise  in  meeting  his  brother  that  it  had  all  been  a 
dream.  The  news  he  now  heard  filled  him  with  horror. 
It  seemed  as  if  the  intense  wish  for  Paolo's  death  had 
in  some  way  produced  a  material  result  without  his 
knowledge ;  it  was  as  though  he  had  kiUed  his  brother 
by  a  thought — as  though  he  had  had  a  real  share  in 
his  death. 


CHAP.  XI 


MAKZIO'S    CllUCIFIX  243 


He  could  hardly  bear  to  go  and  see  the  wounded 
man,  so  strong  was  the  impression  that  gained  posses- 
sion  of  him.      His  fancy  called  up  pictures  of  Paolo 
lying  wounded  in  bed,  and  he  dreaded  to  face  the  sight. 
He  turned  away  from  the  table  and  began  to  walk  up 
and  down  the  little  room.      In  a  corner  his  foot  struck 
against   something — the  drawing  board   on  which  he 
had  begun  to  sketch  the  night  before.      Marzio  took  it 
up  and  brought  it  to  the  light.     Maria  Luisa  stared  at 
him  sorrowfully,   as  though  reproaching  him  with  in- 
difference in  the  general  calamity.      But  Marzio  looked 
intently  at  the  drawing.      It  was  only  a  sketch,  but  it 
was  very  beautifully  done.     He  saw  that  his  ideal  was 
still  the  same,  and  that  upon  the  piece  of  paper  he  had 
only  reproduced  the  features  he  had  chiselled  ten  years 
ago,  with  an   added   beauty   of  expression,  with  just 
those  additions  which  to-day  he  had  made  upon  the 
orifyinal.     The  moment  he  was  sure  of  the  fact  he  laid 
aside  the  board  and  opened  the  wooden  case. 

Maria  Luisa,  who  was  very  far  from  guessing  what  ^ 
an  intimate  connection  existed  between  the  crucifix  and 
Paolo  in  her  husband's  mind,  looked  on  with  increasing 
astonishment  as  he  took  out  the  beautiful  object  and 
set  it  upon  the  table  in  the  light.  But  when  she 
saw  it  her  admiration  overcame  her  sorrow  for  one 
moment. 

"  Dio  mio  !     What  a  miracle  1 "  she  exclaimed. 


244  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  CHAP,  xi 

*'  A  miracle  ?  "  repeated  her  husband,  with  a  strange 
expression.      "  Who  knows  ?     Perhaps  !  " 

At  that  moment  Gianbattista  and  Lucia  entered 
through  the  open  door,  and  stood  together  watching 
the  scene  without  understanding  what  was  passing. 
The  young  girl  recognised  the  crucifix  at  once.  She 
supposed  that  her  father  did  not  realise  Paolo's  con- 
dition, and  was  merely  showing  the  masterpiece  to  her 
mother. 

"  That  is  the  one  I  saw,"  she  whispered  to  Gianbat- 
tista. The  young  man  said  nothing,  but  fixed  his  eyes 
upon  the  cross. 

"  Papa,"  said  Lucia  timidly,  "  do  you  know  ? " 

"  Yes.  Is  he  alone  ?  "  asked  Marzio  in  a  tone  which 
was  not  like  his  own. 

"  There  is  Assunta,"  answered  the  young  girl. 

"  I  will  go  to  him,"  said  the  artist,  and  without 
further  words  he  lifted  the  crucifix  from  the  table  and 
went  out.  His  face  was  very  grave,  and  his  features 
had  something  in  them  that  none  of  the  three  had 
seen  before — something  almost  of  grandeur.  Gian- 
battista and  Lucia  followed  liim. 

"  I  will  be  alone  with  him,"  said  Marzio,  looking 
back  at  the  pair  as  he  reached  the  door  of  the  sick  cham- 
ber. He  entered  and  a  moment  afterwards  old  Assunta 
came  out  and  shuffled  away,  holding  her  apron  to  her 
eyes. 


CHAP,  xr  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  245 

Marzio  went  in.  There  was  a  small  shaded  lamp 
on  the  deal  table,  which  illuminated  the  room  with  a 
soft  light.  Marzio  felt  tliat  he  could  not  trust  himself 
at  first  to  look  at  his  brother's  face.  He  set  the  crucifix 
upon  the  old  chest  of  drawers,  and  put  the  lamp  near 
it.  Then  he  remained  standing  before  it  with  his  back 
to  the  bed,  and  his  hands  in  the  pockets  of  his  blouse. 
He  could  hear  the  regular  breathing  which  told  that 
Paolo  was  still  alive.  For  a  long  time  he  could  not 
turn  round ;  it  was  as  though  an  unseen  power  held 
him  motionless  in  his  position.  He  looked  at  the 
crucifix. 

"  If  he  wakes,"  he  thought,  "  he  will  see  it.  It  will 
comfort  him  if  he  is  going  to  die  ! " 

With  his  back  still  turned  towards  the  bed,  he 
moved  to  one  side,  until  he  thought  that  Paolo  could 
see  what  he  had  brought,  if  consciousness  returned. 
Very  slowly,  as  though  fearing  some  horrible  sight,  he 
changed  his  position  and  looked  timidly  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  sick  man.  At  last  he  saw  tlie  pale  upturned 
face,  and  w^as  amazed  that  such  an  accident  should  have 
produced  so  little  change  in  the  features.  He  came 
and  stood  beside  the  bed. 

Paolo  had  not  moved  since  the  surgeon  had  left ;  he 
was  lying  on  his  back,  propped  by  pillows  so  that  his 
face  was  towards  the  light.  He  was  pale  now,  for  the 
flush  that  had  been  in  his  cheeks  had  subsided ;  his 


246  MARZIO'S    CKUCIFIX  chap,  xi 

eyelids,  which  had  been  half  open,  had  dropped  and 
closed,  so  that  he  seemed  to  be  sleeping  peacefully, 
ready  to  wake  at  the  slightest  sound. 

Marzio  stood  and  looked  at  him.  This  was  the  man 
he  had  hated  through  so  many  years  of  boyhood  and 
manhood — the  man  who  had  faced  him  and  opposed 
him  at  every  step — who  had  stood  up  boldly  before 
him  in  his  own  house  to  defend  what  he  believed  to  be 
right.  This  was  Paolo,  whom  he  had  nearly  killed 
that  morning.  Marzio's  right  hand  felt  the  iron  tool 
in  the  pocket  of  his  blouse,  and  his  fingers  trembled  as 
he  touched  it,  while  his  long  arms  twitched  nervously 
from  the  shoulder  to  the  elbow.  He  took  it  out,  looked 
at  it,  and  at  the  sick  man's  face.  He  asked  himself 
whether  he  could  think  of  using  it  as  he  had  meant  to, 
and  then  he  let  it  fall  upon  the  bit  of  green  drugget 
by  the  bedside. 

That  was  Paolo — it  would  not  need  any  sharpened 
weapon  to  kill  him  now.  A  little  pressure  on  the 
throat,  a  pillow  held  over  his  face  for  a  few  moments, 
and  it  would  all  be  over.  And  what  for  ?  To  be  pur- 
sued for  ever  by  that  same  white  face  ?  No.  It  was 
not  worth  while,  it  had  never  been  worth  while,  even 
were  that  all.  But  there  was  something  else  to  be 
considered.  Paolo  might  now  die  of  his  accident,  in 
his  bed.  There  would  be  no  murder  done  in  that  case, 
no  haunting  horror   of  a  presence,  no  discovery  to  be 


CHAP.    XI 


MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  247 


feared,  since  there  would  have  been  no  evil.  Let  him 
die,  if  he  was  dying  ! 

But  that  was  not  all  either.  What  would  it  be 
when  Paolo  should  be  dead  ?  AVell,  he  had  his  ideas, 
of  course.  They  were  mistaken  ideas.  Were  they  ? 
Perhajjs,  who  could  tell  ?  But  he  was  not  a  bad  man, 
this  Paolo.  He  had  never  tried  to  wring  money  out  of 
Marzio,  as  some  people  did.  On  the  contrary,  Marzio 
still  felt  a  sense  of  humiliation  when  he  thought  how 
much  he  owed  to  the  kindness  of  this  man,  his  brother, 
lying  here  injured  to  death,  and  powerless  to  help  him- 
self or  to  save  himself.  Powerless  ?  yes — utterly  so. 
How  easy  it  would  be,  after  all,  to  press  a  pillow  on 
the  unconscious  face.  There  w^ould  probably  not  even 
be  a  struggle.  Who  should  save  him,  or  who  could 
know  of  it  ?  And  yet  Marzio  did  not  want  to  do  it, 
as  he  had  wished  to  a  few  hours  ago.  As  he  looked 
down  on  the  pale  head  he  realised  that  he  did  not 
want  Paolo  to  die.  Standing  on  the  sharp  edge  of  the 
precipice  where  life  ends  and  breaks  off,  close  upon  the 
unfathomable  depths  of  eternity,  himself  firmly  standing 
and  fearing  no  fall,  but  seeing  his  brother  slipping  over 
the  brink,  he  would  put  out  his  hand  to  save  him,  to 
draw  him  back.      He  would  not  have  Paolo  die. 

He  gazed  upon  the  calm  features,  and  he  knew  that 
he  feared  lest  they  should  be  still  for  ever.  The 
breath  came  more  softly,  more  and  more  faintly,  Marzio 


248  MARZIO'S   CRUCIFIX  chap,  xi 

thought.  He  bent  down  low  and  tried  to  feel  the 
warm  air  as  it  issued  from  the  lips.  His  fears  grew 
to  terror  as  the  life  seemed  to  ebb  away  from  the 
white  face.  In  the  agony  of  his  apprehension,  Marzio 
inadvertently  laid  his  hand  upon  the  injured  shoulder, 
unconsciously  pressing  his  weight  upon  the  place. 

With  a  faint  sigh  the  priest's  eyes  opened  and 
seemed  to  gaze  for  a  moment  on  the  crucifix  standing 
in  the  bright  light  of  the  lamp.  An  expression  of 
wonderful  gentleness  and  calm  overspread  the  refined 
features. 

"  Qui  propter  nos  homines  et  propter  nostram  salutem 
descendit  de  coelis" 

The  words  came  faintly  from  the  dying  man's  lips, 
the  last  syllables  scarcely  audible  in  the  intense  still- 
ness. A  deathly  pallor  crept  quickly  over  the  smooth 
forehead  and  thin  cheeks.  Marzio  looked  for  one 
instant  more,  and  then  with  a  loud  cry  fell  upon  his 
knees  by  the  bedside,  his  long  arms  extended  across 
his  brother's  body.  The  strong  hot  tears  fell  upon  the 
bed  coverings,  and  his  breast  heaved  with  passionate 
sobbing. 

He  did  not  see  that  Paolo  opened  his  eyes  at  the 
sound.  He  did  not  notice  the  rush  of  feet  in  the 
passage  without,  as  Maria  Luisa  and  Lucia  and  Gian- 
battista  ran  to  the  door,  followed  by  old  Assunta 
holding  up  her  apron  to  her  eyes. 


CHAP.  XI  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  249 

"  Courage,  Sor  Marzio,"  said  Gianbattista,  drawing 
the  artist  back  from  the  bed.  "  You  will  disturb  him. 
Do  you  not  see  that  he  is  conscious  at  last  ? " 

Lucia  was  arranging  the  pillows  under  Paolo's  head, 
and  Maria  Luisa  was  crying  with  joy.  Marzio  sprang 
to  his  feet  and  stared  as  though  he  could  not  believe 
what  he  saw.  Paolo  turned  his  head  and  looked 
kindly  at  his  brother. 

"  Courage,  Marzio,"  he  said,  "  I  have  been  asleep,  I 
believe — what  has  happened  to  me  ?  Why  are  you 
all  crying  ? " 

Marzio's  tears  broke  out  again,  mingled  with  incoher- 
ent words  of  joy.  In  his  sudden  happiness  he  clasped 
the  two  persons  nearest  to  him,  and  hugged  them  and 
kissed  them.  These  two  chanced  to  be  Lucia  and 
Gianbattista.  Paolo  smiled,  but  the  effort  of  speaking 
had  tired  him. 

"Well,"   said  Marzio   at   last,   with  a  kinder  smile 

than   had   been   on  his  face  for  many  a   day "  verv 

well,  children.     For  Paolo's  sake  you  shall  have  your 
own  way." 

Half  an  hour  later  the  surgeon  made  his  visit  and 
assured  them  all  that  there  was  no  serious  injury,  nor 
any  further  danger  to  be  feared.  Tlie  patient  had 
been  very  badly  stunned,  that  was  all.  Marzio  re- 
mained by  his  brother's  side. 

"  You  see,  Tista,"  said  Lucia  when  they  were  in  tlie 


250  MARZIO'S    CRUCIFIX  chap,  xi 

sitting-room,  "  I  was  quite  right  about  the  crucifix  and 
the  rest." 

"  Of  course,"  assented  the  Signora  Paudolfi,  though 
she  did  not  understand  the  aUusion  in  the  least.  "  Of 
course  you  are  all  of  you  right.  But  what  a  day  this 
has  been,  cari  miei  !  What  a  day  !  Dear,  dear !" 
She  spread  out  her  fat  hands  upon  her  knees,  looking 
the  picture  of  solid  contentment. 


THE    END 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

RENEWALS  ONLY— TEL.  NO.  642-3405 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 

Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 

JAN BntQfia  ^ 

vmsss 

-.  iu>  l-D 

JAN -6  1969 

m^   ^^''° 

RECD  LD  H 

;B  20  70  -II  AM 

( J401S10 )  476B                           U''"'="g,J'^,';f ''°'°'^ 

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